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RANK  ELL'S    REMAINS. 


Barrett  Wendell's  Novels, 

Each  in  one  volume.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.00; 
paper,  50  cents. 


RANKELL'S    REMAINS. 

"  Remarkably  well  done,"  says  Nora  Perry  in  The  Inde- 
pendent. 

"  A  beautiful  and  needed  lesson,"  says  the  Boston  Globe. 

"  Original,  unusual,  spirited,  and  interesting,"  says  the  Bos- 
ton Courier. 

"  Deep  and  thoughtful  impression,"  says  the  Home  Journal. 


The  dhghess  emilia. 

"  The  leading  conception  is  very  noble."  —  The  Nation. 

"  The  plot  is  as  weird  as  one  of  Hawthorne's  wildest,  but  the 
picture  is  wonderfully  painted.  It  is  a  picture  of  old  papal 
Rome."  —  The  Churchman. 

• 

***  For  sale  by  all  booksellers.    Sent  by  mail,  post-paid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers. 


RANKELL'S     REMAINS 


AN  AMERICAN  NOVEL 


BY 

BARRETT    WENDELL 

AUTHOR    OF    "THE    DUCHESS    EMILIA" 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1896 


Copyright,  i8q6 
By  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 

Copyright,  1886 
By  Ticknor  and  Company 

All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Introduction 9 

Rankell 15 

The  Wybornes *.  4:3 

The  Lottimers 129 

The  Convention 201 

The  End  of  Rankell 261 

The  Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin     .     .     .  279 

Rankell's  Remains 299 

Conclusion 315 


O  / 2  A  O  K  Q 


RANKELL'S   REMAINS, 


D^C 


INTRODUCTION. 

TT  is  now  some  time  since  I  told  a  little  com- 
*-  pany,  gathered  after  dinner,  a  fragmentary 
story  that  had  come  to  my  knowledge.  Some 
of  them  paid  little  attention,  thinking  it,  I  sup- 
pose, dull  and  broken.  But  some  listened  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  told  me  when  all  was 
over,  and  we  were  parting  for  the  night,  that  I 
should  do  well  to  write  it  down. 

I  have  tried  to.  The  task  has  not  been  easy  ; 
yet  the  harder  it  has  been,  the  better  it  has 
seemed  worth  the  doing.  In  the  life  about  us 
there  are  meanings  that  men  who  dabble  in 
books  are  apt  never  to  see,  while  those  who 
see  them  have  no  time  in  the  midst  of  business 


10  RanhelVs  Remains. 

to  write  them  down  or  even  to  express  them  in 
their  own  thoughts.  And  this  story,  fragment- 
ary as  my  knowledge  of  it  is,  has,  at  least  for 
me,  a  meaning  that  I  can  ill  put  in  words,  but 
that  helps  me  to  feel,  what  of  all  things  I  hold 
a  man  should  teach  himself  to  feel,  that  this 
modern  world  of  ours,  even  in  our  own  America 
which  the  fastidious  are  prone  to  sneer  at,  is  as 
true  a  passage  in  the  great  book  of  human  life 
as  was  the  Greece  of  Homer,  or  the  Palestine  of 
the  Hebrews,  or  the  Italy  of  Dante,  or  the  Eng- 
land of  Shakspeare.  The  same  sun  lights  our 
lives  ;  the  same  shadows  darken  them  ;  the 
same  humanity  lives  and  throbs  and  rejoices 
and  suffers  about  us,  and  leaves  us  in  new 
forms  the  same  lessons  of  wisdom  and  of  folly. 

Yet  after  all,  as  I  have  said,  my  story  is  only 
a  few  fragments,  ill  fitted  together,  and  telling 
little  more  of  the  man  with  whom  it  chiefly 
deals  than  those  broken  bits  of  frieze  that  the 
archasolooists  uncovered  at  Assos  tell  of  the 
great  temple  of  which  they  formed  a  part. 
And  what  task  was  before  me  has  often  been 


Introduction.  11 


a  puzzle.  Was  it  to  make  a  restoration,  com- 
plete in  itself  but  bearing  in  every  line  the 
stamp  of  me,  the  restorer?  or  was  it  not  rather 
to  place  side  by  side  what  fragments  I  had,  and 
let  whoever  chose  think  for  themselves  what 
the  fragments  mean  ?  After  more  than  one 
year  of  thought,  the  latter  way  has  seemed  the 
better. 

So  this  is  what  I  shall  tell  to  such  as  care 
to  read  what  I  write.  There  lived  among  us, 
in  times  that  we  can  still  remember,  one  Ran- 
kell,  a  man  whose  name  at  least  was  known  to 
everybody,  and  is  not  yet  quite  forgotten.  He 
lived,  and  worked,  and  sinned,  and  died.  His 
life  altered  the  lives  of  others  that  it  touched, 
—  now  for  the  better,  now  for  the  worse.  And 
he  left  behind  him  sundry  things  that  have  per- 
ished, and  others  that  survive. 

Now,  it  happened  that  at  three  several  times 
I  came  to  know  something  of  the  work  that, 
meaning  or  unmeaning,  he  was  doing  in  the 
world ;  and  to  me  that  work  seemed  all  evil. 
But  now  that  he  is  dead  and  the  years  begin 


12  RankelVs  Remains. 

to  pass,  even  though  as  yet  they  be  not  very 
many,  I  grow  to  think  of  these  matters  differ- 
ently, and  to  see  that  when  we  are  no  longer 
left  to  tell  of  what  harm  he  worked  about  us, 
the  traces  of  him  on  the  earth  will  bear  a  differ- 
ent aspect  from  the  aspect  he  bore.  But  ail 
this  I  see  only  dimly,  and  can  express  best,  I 
think,  by  telling  it  just  as  it  has  come  to  me. 

In  this  book,  then,  I  shall  tell  first  how  Ran- 
kell  looked,  and  what  was  the  common  story 
of  his  daily  life ;  for  nowadays  the  dead  ride 
fast,  and  it  may  well  be  that  what  a  few  years 
ago  was  common  talk  is  already  out  of  sight  and 
out  of  mind.  Next,  in  the  order  in  which  I 
knew  them,  I  shall  tell  the  three  passages  of 
his  life  that  I  came  to  know ;  and  except  that 
all  three  concern  him  they  have  nothing  in 
common.  Then  I  shall  tell  how  he  died, 
and  what  he  left  behind,  and  finally  what  is 
become  of  it. 


I. 

EANKELL. 


"PRECISELY  at  half-past  eight  o'clock  in 
■*■  the  morning,  if  you  happened  to  be  walk- 
ing down  town,  you  might  have  seen  emerge 
from  a  brown-stone  house  neither  more  nor  less 
over-ornamented  than  its  neighbors,  a  brisk  little 
gentleman  in  a  decent  black  suit.  Of  a  fine 
day  he  would  turn  his  face  resolutely  to  the 
business  part  of  the  city,  and  tramp  along  block 
after  block  at  such  a  rate  that  you  would  have 
found  it  hard  to  overtake  him.  But  you  might 
have  kept  near  enough  to  observe  that  his 
beaver  hat  was  old  and  very  carefully  brushed, 
that  his  clothes  were  a  trifle  threadbare  but 
scrupulously  neat,  and  that  he  wore  well- 
blacked  top-boots  and  carried  a  black  cane 
with  a  plain  gold  head,  —  rather  as  a  badge  of 
respectability  than  because  he  needed  aid  in 
walking.     If  you  happened  to  meet  him,  you 


16  MankelVs  Remains. 

might  have  noticed  that  his  low-cut  waistcoat 
revealed  an  old-fashioned  plaited  shirt  fastened 
with  plain  pearl  buttons,  that  his  black  cravat 
was  rather  negligently  tied  about  a  high  collar, 
and  that  this  collar  was  surmounted  by  a  col- 
orless little  face,  surrounded  with  thin  yellow 
hair  and  a  bristling  yellow  chin-beard.  And  as 
you  came  near  enough  to  see  that  this  queer 
countenance  was  habitually  wrinkled  with  a 
fixed  smile  that  made  the  light-blue  eyes  look 
very  cunning,  and  displayed  a  full  set  of  teeth 
of  much  the  same  color  as  the  hair,  you  might 
well  have  wondered  —  if  indeed  the  incon- 
spicuous little  man  excited  your  curiosity  — 
whether  he  was  forty  years  old  or  seventy. 

If  the  day  were  cloudy,  you  might  have  seen 
the  same  man  armed  with  a  large  cambric  um- 
brella instead  of  the  gold-headed  cane ;  and  at 
such  a  time,  when  he  stepped  out  of  doors  he 
would  look  curiously  at  the  heavens,  and  some- 
times stand  for  a  moment  in  colloquy  with  him- 
self. Then,  if  an  omnibus  came  lumbering 
along,  he  would  often  hail  it,  and  clamber  in 


Rankell.  17 


to  be  borne  off  through  the  mud  toward  his 
destination.  The  first  I  ever  saw  of  him,  I 
remember,  was  in  an  omnibus  one  drizzling 
winter  morning.  What  makes  me  remember 
him  is  that  in  paying  his  fare  he  accidentally 
dropped  a  small  coin  into  the  straw  at  his 
feet,  and  passed  a  good  five  minutes  in  hunt- 
ing for  it,  to  the  manifest  discomfort  of  his 
neighbors.  The  act  excited  my  sympathy, 
particularly  as  some  in  the  omnibus  were 
disposed  to  smile.  To  me  the  sight  of  an 
elderly  man  treasuring  his  pennies  was  by  no 
means  ludicrous ;  so  I  offered  to  help  in  his 
search. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  rather  sharply,  "  I 
can  find  it  myself;  "  and  sure  enough,  in  time 
he  found  it.  Then,  having  pocketed  it,  he  rested 
his  thin  yellow  hands  on  the  handle  of  his  um- 
brella, and  looking  about  with  his  by  no  means 
contagious  smile,  nodded  to  one  or  two  solid- 
looking  citizens  in  the  omnibus,  wishing  them 
good-morning. 

"  Bad  weather,  sir,"  said  one  of  them. 
2 


18  RankelVs  Remains. 

"  Yes,  't  is,"  he  answered,  with  no  change  of 
expression.     "  Any  news  ?  " 

"  Don't  hear  of  any,"  said  his  friend  ;  whereat 
the  little  gentleman  nodded  briskly,  and  stared 
at  the  opposite  window  lost  in  thought. 

If  you  had  watched  this  personage  closely, 
you  would  have  discovered  that  at  precisely 
nine  o'clock,  rain  or  shine,  he  reached  and 
entered  Rankell's  ;  and  anybody  in  that  part  of 
the  town  could  have  told  you  that  he  was  Ran- 
kell  himself.  Rankell's  was  known  throughout 
the  country  as  the  place  where  you  could  buy, 
at  the  lowest  price,  the  best  quality  of  every- 
thing, from  kitchen  furniture  to  French  lace 
and  English  harnesses.  How  any  business  had 
ever  attained  such  size  and  complexity,  or  hav- 
ing attained  it  was  ever  carried  on,  puzzled 
people  far  and  wide.  But  the  fact  remained, 
and  is  notable,  among  other  things,  for  having 
stirred  to  the  utterance  of  parable  a  very  sol- 
vent banker  who  amuses  himself  with  farming 
somewhere  in  Connecticut. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  this  banker,  when  I  once 


Ran/cell.  19 


expressed  wonder  at  the  growth  of  Rankell's, 
"  do  you  know  how  I  set  to  work  to  grow  a  prize 
squash  ?  I  get  the  vine  well  planted,  and  put 
in  a  lot  of  manure,  and  then  when  the  blossoms 
come  I  make  my  man  cut  off  all  but  one.  When 
that  one  grows,  sir,  it 's  a  whacker.  I  've  taken 
prizes  at  the  county  show  any  time  these  fifteen 
years,  let  alone  honorable  mention." 

This  was  uttered  at  a  political  dinner,  and  so 
exhausted  the  creative  powers  of  the  banker, 
that  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  he  did  little  but 
listen  to  the  speeches  as  he  contemplatively 
chewed  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

Once  inside  his  store,  Rankell  might  have 
been  seen  to  thread  his  way  through  the  maze 
of  counters  with  the  skill  of  one  who  knows 
every  inch  of  his  ground.  And  though  busi- 
ness was  hardly  begun  at  nine  in  the  morning, 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  establish- 
ment was  sure  to  be  in  the  proper  place ;  and 
there  was  no  whispering  or  loitering  as  the 
sharp-eyed  proprietor  made  his  way  to  an  inner 
counting-room.     Here  was  a  single   desk,  and 


20  RankelVs  Remains. 

a  pivot  chair,  and  a  ticker.  And  here,  report 
said,  Rankell  would  sit  down  at  once  and  set  to 
work. 

Just  how  Rankell  worked  nobody  knew, — 
except  that  he  worked  alone.  Of  course,  cer- 
tain superficial  facts  were  patent.  He  always 
found  a  pile  of  letters  waiting  for  him,  and 
always  opened  them  himself;  as  fast  as  he 
read  one  he  would  make  a  note  on  it  in  pencil 
and  fling  it  down.  And  he  could  take  in  at  a 
glance  letters  that  anybody  else  would  have 
puzzled  over  for  an  hour ;  no  eccentricity  of 
handwriting  or  rhetoric  offered  any  obstacle  to 
his  intelligence.  When  his  letters  were  read 
he  would  strike  a  little  bell  summoning  his 
confidential  clerk,  Mr.  Lottimer,  of  whom  1 
shall  have  something  to  say  by  and  by.  He 
was  called  a  confidential  clerk,  because  he  was 
allowed  to  enter  Mr.  Rankell's  office  when  any- 
body wished  to  communicate  with  Mr.  Rankell ; 
but  so  far  as  confidences  went,  he  knew,  I  take 
it,  as  little  of  Rankell  as  ai^body  else.  Rankell 
told   him   what    to   do :    Lottimer   never   asked 


Itankell.  21 


or  expressed  an  opinion ;  and  what  opinions 
Rankell  had  he  always  kept  to  himself. 

Mr.  Lottimer's  first  summons  of  a  morning 
was  to  receive  a  number  of  letters,  to  be  an- 
swered by  the  clerks.  His  second  was  usually 
to  receive  other  letters  which  Rankell  had 
thought  proper  to  write  for  himself,  and  which 
were  to  be  copied  in  a  private  book.  Then, 
when  Rankell  had  despatched  his  correspon- 
dence, the  brisk  little  man  would  be  seen, 
when  by  any  chance  his  door  was  ajar,  busy 
with  newspapers,  with  his  ticker,  or  with  some 
of  the  documents  that  always  littered  his  desk. 
Every  now  and  then  he  would  summon  Mr. 
Lottimer  for  a  few  words  of  direction ;  and  in 
these  directions  lay  the  mystery  of  his  method, 
—  for  no  one  of  them  often  appeared  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  last,  yet  somehow  at 
the  end  of  the  year  all  fitted  together. 

You  have  been  at  an  industrial  exhibition, 
I  dare  say,  where  a  machine  was  busily 
making  some  complicated  product  of  modern 
ingenuity,  —  a  pair  of  corsets,  or  a  silk  book- 


22  RankelVs  Remains. 


mark  illuminated  with  allegorical  devices  and 
a  portrait  of  Garfield  or  the  Lord's  Prayer-, 
you  have  seen  the  warp  rise  up  and  down  with 
irregular  regularity,  like  waves  in  a  pool  where 
a  stone  has  been  thrown  ;  you  have  seen  vari- 
ous shuttles  fly  back  and  forth  as  wildly  as 
dragon-flies;  and  by  and  by  there  has  issued 
from  the  machine  a  finished  article,  pronounced 
beautiful  by  the  manufacturer  and  the  crowd. 
You  have  seen  the  thing  made  ;  but  how  it  has 
been  made  you  have  no  idea,  because  you  have 
not  understood  the  machine.  Rankell  was  once 
likened  to  a  machine  of  this  kind  ;  his  function 
being  to  weave  a  fortune,  —  or,  if  you  prefer, 
to  hammer  out  dollars.  He  was  in  perfect 
working  order ;  and  the  mystery  about  him 
was  simply  that  nobody  understood  his  mech- 
anism. 

This  simile  always  seemed  to  me  good.  Like 
a  machine,  Rankell  had  no  friends,  though 
everybody  knew  him  by  name  ;  like  a  machine, 
he  never  consulted  anybody;  like  a  machine, 
he  never  went  out  of  his  way  ;  and  like  a  ma- 


Ranhell.  23 


chine,  he  played  the  devil  with  whatever  was 
in  it. 

Another  fact  that  helped  remove  him  from 
ordinary  humanity  was  that  nobody  rightly 
knew  where  he  came  from.  People  vaguely 
believed  that  he  had  been  raised  somewhere  in 
the  country,  and  began  life  as  a  pedler.  At  all 
events,  there  had  once  been  a  time  when  there 
was  no  Raukell's.  Then  a  small  shop  had  ap- 
peared with  his  name  over  the  door ;  and  year 
by  year  the  shop  had  grown.  The  origin  of  the 
germ,  however,  was  as  mysterious  as  if  the  great 
store  had  been  Asiatic  cholera.  All  that  people 
definitely  knew  of  Rankell  was  that  when  he 
first  appeared  in  his  small  shop  he  was  already 
a  colorless  little  man,  with  faded  yellow  hair 
and  beard,  and  decent  black  clothes.  The  only 
change  ever  noted  in  him  was  that  when  he 
moved  into  the  great  building  that  made  his 
name  national  he  first  allowed  himself  the  lux- 
ury of  a  gold-headed  cane.  He  never  went  into 
society  of  any  kind,  and  he  never  married. 


24  RankelVs  Remains. 


II. 

So  much  the  whole  world  knew  of  Rankell, — 
and  more  too  ;  for,  like  most  things  in  Chris- 
tian lands,  he  had  one  aspect  for  six  days  of  the 
week  and  another  for  the  seventh. 

He  went  to  church  a  long  way  from  home. 
And  as  he  always  walked,  and  always  made  it  a 
point  to  be  in  his  pew  before  service  began,  he 
had  to  start  betimes  ;  so  when  he  stepped  out 
of  doors  the  avenue  he  lived  on  would  be  almost 
empty.  The  omnibuses  were  laid  up  for  the 
da}' ;  a  few  carriages  might  be  waiting  at  doors 
for  people  still  at  breakfast ;  an  occasional  baker 
or  milkman  might  dash  about  with  irreverent 
clatter,  —  that  would  be  all.  The  flagged  side- 
walks would  be  almost  as  bare  as  the  pave- 
ments ;  so  for  a  good  while  there  would  be 
few  to  observe  the  change  that  was  come  over 
Rankell. 

For  of  a  Sunday  he  looked  old.  He  walked 
slowly,   pausing   at   street-crossings,    as   if  the 


Rankell. 


gutter  were  an  obstacle  not  lightly  to  be  passed 
over.  His  clothes,  soberly  decent  as  ever, 
looked  very  new  ;  his  face  lost  the  cunning 
lines  that  marked  it  of  a  week-day ;  the 
wrinkles  about  his  small  e}7es  and  his  thin 
lips  assumed  a  benevolent  air.  So  with  slightly 
trembling  step  he  would  walk  down  block  after 
block  of  flagged  sidewalks  from  the  new  brown- 
stone  region,  where  he  lived  alone,  to  older 
streets,  where  square  brick  houses  with  breath- 
ing spaces  about  them  remain  to  show  what 
the  town  was  like  before  Rankell  or  Rankell' s 
were  thought  of.  Now  and  then  elderly  folks 
in  Sunday  clothes  would  emerge  from  one  of 
these  houses ;  and  sometimes  the  men  would 
bow  to  him,  and  he  in  return  would  take  off 
his  unfashionable  Sunday  hat,  putting  his  cane 
under  his  left  arm  the  while. 

Walking  at  his  slow  pace,  it  took  him  an 
hour  to  reach  the  church  where  he  had  been  a 
regular  attendant  for  years  ;  so  by  the  time  he 
turned  into  the  iron  gate  of  the  churchyard, 
open  that  one  day  of  the  week,  there  were  plenty 


26  RankelVs  Remains. 

of  people  of  the  better  sort  and  not  a  few  of  the 
poor  to  keep  him  company  at  worship. 

It  was  a  queer  church  for  Rankell  to  go  to. 
Most  men  of  his  kind,  notable  for  success  in 
what  everybody  is  trying  to  do,  serve  God  in 
churches  as  new  and  rich  as  themselves.  Ill- 
natured  people,  indeed,  say  that  the  only  reason 
they  go  to  church  at  all  is  that  in  conservative 
minds  not  to  go  would  still  affect  their  credit ; 
so  they  naturally  prefer  conspicuous  places  of 
worship,  where  the  reporter  who  comes  to  take 
the  sermon  may  occasionally  note  their  presence. 
But  old  St.  Peter's,  where  Rankell  went,  was 
not  a  place  to  attract  reporters. 

Away  back  in  colonial  times  the  church  had 
been  built  in  the  midst  of  fields,  where  of  a 
Sunday  the  churchmen  could  look  across  rolling 
country  to  the  rivers  that  still  flowed  between 
green  banks.  So  they  looked,  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  all  through  the  eighteenth  century; 
and  many  of  them  were  safe  in  the  churchyard 
before  the  Revolution  came  to  drive  most  of 
the  ^est  away,  and  to  leave  what  few  remained 


Rankell. 


perplexed  as  they  listened  to  a  service  with  the 
king's  name  stricken  out.  In  the  prayer-book 
of  St.  Peter's  the  parson  will  still  show  you  a 
yellow  piece  of  parchment  pasted  over  the 
prayer  for  God's  servant  George,  —  the  second 
of  the  name,  —  King  of  Great  Britain,  Ireland, 
and  France.  After  the  Revolution  the  country 
grew  richer,  and  the  trees  in  St.  Peter's  church- 
yard tall  and  full,  and  the  gravestones  plentiful ; 
and  marble  memorials  of  the  great  folk  began 
to  cover  the  walls  under  the  galleries.  Then 
the  city,  which  used  to  be  far  away  over  a  coun- 
try road,  crept  nearer  ;  and  the  river-banks 
began  to  be  covered  with  wharves,  and  great 
ships  came  sailing  by,  instead  of  the  smaller 
craft  that  used  to  dot  the  waters.  By  and  by, 
you  could  hardly  say  when,  the  city  was  upon 
the  green  churchyard,  eddying  about  it  as  the 
tide  eddies  about  a  little  island ;  and  before 
Rankell's  time  the  tide  of  the  city  had  surged 
past  St.  Peter's,  leaving  the  churchyard,  with 
its  century-old  trees,  surrounded  by  shops  and 
stores  and  apartment  houses  less  expensive  than 


28  RankelVs  Remains. 

those  in  fashionable  neighborhoods.  Now  the 
place  was  half  forgotten,  except  by  the  descend- 
ants of  the  families  whose  monuments  were  on 
the  walls  or  in  the  churchyard,  and  by  such 
astute  poor  people  as  understood  the  advantages 
of  frequenting  a  place  of  worship  where  the  solid 
part  of  the  congregation  inherit  traditions  of 
benevolence  along  with  fortunes  two  or  three 
generations  old. 

Rankell  had  gone  to  St.  Peter's  for  years, 
and  for  twenty  or  thirty  had  been  on  the  ves- 
try, which  boasted  some  of  the  oldest  names 
in  town.  Every  Sunday,  just  before  service 
began,  he  would  come  gravely  down  the  aisle, 
his  hat  upside  down  in  his  right  hand,  his 
stick  dragging  in  his  left.  He  would  slowly 
turn  the  wooden  button  that  fastened  the  white- 
panelled  door  of  his  pew,  and  resting  his  hand 
on  the  polished  mahogany  rail  would  open  the 
door  and  pass  in.  Then,  after  laying  his  hat 
and  his  stick  on  the  red  cushion,  he  would 
reach  over  and  fumblingly  turn  the  button 
again,  to  lock  himself  in.     The  sexton  had  in- 


Ilankell.  29 


structions  that  no  stranger  was  under  any  cir- 
cumstances to  be  allowed  in  the  pew.  Then 
Ilankell  would  bow  his  head  in  preliminary 
prayer,  and  lifting  it  before  long,  would  sit 
until  the  service  began,  with  features  composed 
to  an  expression  of  benignity. 

When  the  parson  began  to  inform  his  dearly 
beloved  brethren  to  what  ends  the  Scripture 
moveth  them  in  sundry  places,  Rankell  would 
open  a  large-printed  prayer-book  ;  and  holding 
the  volume  in  his  wrinkled  hand  he  would  read 
the  responses  with  a  loud  voice,  rising  to  his 
feet  and  bending  his  head  in  prayer  among  the 
first.  And  when  the  sermon  came,  whatever 
it  was  about,  Rankell  would  listen  with  scrupu- 
lous attention. 

When  the  sermon  was  over,  and  the  time  for 
contribution  arrived,  he  would  emerge  from  his 
pew,  and  walking  deliberately  to  the  chancel- 
rail  would  receive  at  the  hands  of  the  officiating 
divine  a  large  silver  plate.  This  he  would 
gravely  pass  from  pew  to  pew  in  one  aisle, 
while  other  vestrymen  did    likewise   in  others. 


30  RankelVs  Remains. 

When  this  task  was  done,  he  would  come  slowly 
down  the  broad  aisle,  holding  the  plate  in  his 
left  hand,  his  right  fumbling  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket  for  his  own  share  of  the  contribution. 
This  never  appeared  until,  last  of  all  the 
vestrymen,  he  was  mounting  the  altar  steps. 
Then,  having  deposited  his  plate  and  his  offer- 
ing on  the  top  of  the  pile  the  waiting  parson 
held,  he  would  turn  about,  and  with  calmly 
serene  countenance  go  back  to  his  pew  ;  there 
he  would  bow  his  head  to  receive  the  benedic- 
tion. Then,  with  his  fellow-worshippers,  he 
would  rise  to  organ  music,  and  gravely  passing 
down  the  aisle  would  make  his  way  out  of 
church  and  so  home  to  dinner. 


III. 

And  this,  I  think,  is  all  that  common  report 
said  of  Rankell.  At  all  events,  I  knew  nothing 
more  of  him  for  a  long  time.  What  else  I  shall 
tell  here  came  to  me  later. 

Among  the  old  parishioners  of  St.  Peter's  was 


Rankell.  31 


a  family  called  Wyborne,  of  whom  by  and  by  I 
shall  have  a  good  deal  to  say.  They  had  held 
their  pew  in  the  broad  aisle,  I  believe,  ever 
since  the  church  was  built,  and  still  came  there 
during  the  season  when  they  were  in  town, 
chiefly,  I  take  it,  because  their  grandfathers  had 
come  before  them.  It  is  certainly  agreeable, 
when  the  sermon  is  dull,  to  look  at  a  series  of 
stately,  if  ugly,  marble  tablets,  on  which  are 
carved,  along  with  your  family  arms,  many  flat- 
tering things  about  several  generations  of  your 
ancestors  ;  and  this  is  particularly  agreeable 
when  the  flattering  things  are  all  couched  in  a 
sonorously  barbarous  Latin  that  affords  healthy 
exercise  to  the  half-forgotten  scholarship  which 
at  length  enables  you  to  understand  it. 

At  the  time  when  I  knew  the  Wybornes  the 
head  of  the  family  was  an  elderly  gentleman, 
the  fourth  or  fifth  who  in  the  direct  line  had 
borne  the  name  of  Lawrence.  He  was  a  big, 
good-natured  man,  with  sleek  gray  hair  parted 
in  the  middle  and  brushed  forward  above  his 
ears ;    and   he    wore   a   patriarchal   beard,    and 


82  RankelVs  Remains. 

a  moustache  that  quite  covered  the  lips  from 
which  issued  a  voice  mellowed  by  generations 
of  good  dinners,  good  wine,  and  good  company. 
Those  who  knew  him  best  were  accustomed  to 
say  few  respectful  things  about  his  brains  ;  but 
I  never  heard  anybody  question  the  simplicity 
of  his  heart  or  the  excellence  of  his  manners. 

One  Sunday  morning  I  took  it  into  my  head 
to  go  to  St.  Peter's ;  and  meeting  at  the  door 
Mr.  Wyborne,  who  offered  me  a  place  in  his 
pew,  I  sat  with  him  through  the  service.  When 
we  came  out  of  church  together,  we  stood  for  a 
moment  in  the  portico  buttoning  our  coats,  as 
the  sunshine  came  streaming  between  the  round 
columns  with  Corinthian  capitals.  It  was  early 
spring ;  crocuses  were  sprouting  in  the  church- 
yard, and  I  said  something  about  the  quiet 
charm  of  the  place. 

"I  've  always  been  fond  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Wy- 
borne. "  It 's  one  of  the  few  left  where  you 
can  be  sure  to  find  nobody  who  does  n't  belong 
there.  But,  do  you  know,  we  shan't  be  able  to 
say  that  much  longer.     That  spruced-up  tomb 


Rankell.  83 


is  n't  a  new  one,  bat  it  is  the  next  worst  thing. 
A  few  years  ago  it  was  in  bad  condition,  and 
John  Van  Br  ugh,  the  man  it  belonged  to,  put 
the  whole  family  in  pine  boxes  and  carted  them 
over  to  Lawnwood.  Then  he  got  leave  from 
the  Aldermen  to  sell  the  old  tomb  to  Rankell 
the  shopkeeper  ;  and  Rankell  put  it  in  order 
to  be  buried  in.  Rankell  's  not  a  bad  kind  of 
person,  to  be  sure ;  I  've  known  him  for  years, 
and  in  a  business  way  he  has  done  me  some 
friendly  turns ;  but  you  can't  help  feeling  that 
among  the  old  people  here  a  man  like  Rankell 
will  be  horribly  out  of  place." 

Here  Mr.  Wyborne  suddenly  stopped  talk- 
ing ;  for  just  as  he  was  expressing  his  opinion 
of  Rankell  with  the  freedom  he  permitted  him- 
self in  all  expression  of  what  opinions  he  had, 
the  little  man  appeared  at  his  elbow  ;  and  as 
Rankell  stiffly  acknowledged  Mr.  Wy home's 
greeting,  his  face  had  more  of  the  grinning  im- 
penetrability that  marked  it  on  week-days  than 
was  commonly  to  be  seen  in  it  of  a  Sunday. 

For  of   a  Sunday,  as    I   have    said,   Rankell 


34  llankelVs  Remains. 

looked  venerable  as  he  sat  alone  in  his  pew, 
with  his  eye-glasses  at  such  an  angle  on  his 
nose  that  he  could  look  through  them  at  his 
prayer-book  and  over  them  at  more  distant  ob- 
jects. And  as  I  had  watched  him  listening  to 
the  sermon  with  an  elderly,  benevolent  air,  his 
faded  yellow  hair  and  beard  had  reminded  me 
of  a  shopworn  halo.  He  would  make  an  ad- 
mirable type,  I  thought,  of  the  patron  saint  of 
American  shopkeepers.  I  said  so  now  to  Mr. 
Wyborne,  suggesting  that  we  might  invent  a 
legend  for  him. 

"Bless  me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Wyborne,  "I 
never  invented  anything  in  my  life.  But  you 
know  Rankell  has  a  kind  of  story.  I  '11  tell  it 
you  some  day  when  we  have  time." 


IV. 

The  time  came  one  afternoon  not  long  after- 
wards, when  I  met  Mr.  Wyborne  at  the  Club 
and  reminded  him  of  his  promise. 

" Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  as  we  lighted  cigars.    "The 


Rankell.  35 


story  is  about  the  way  Rankell  took  to  coming 
to  St.  Peter's.  Yon  would  n't  think  it,  to  look 
at  him  ;  but,  'gad,  sir,  if  the  story  means  what  I 
think  it  does,  it 's  as  pretty  a  piece  of  sentiment 
as  you  'd  wish  to  hear. 

"  You  know  the  pew  he  sits  in,  opposite  mine. 
It  used  to  be  the  Lees' ;  they  were  cousins  of 
mine  on  my  mother's  side.  They  're  all  dead 
now ;  Rankell  bought  the  pew  when  old  Philip 
Lee  died,  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago.  Of  course 
3'OU  can't  remember  Mary  Lee  ;  but  in  her  day 
she  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  town.  She  had 
more  offers  than  any  three  others,  and  why  the 
deuce  she  always  said  '  no,'  she  could  n't  have 
told  you  herself.  Well,  like  other  girls  —  my 
daughter  among  the  number  —  she  liked  to 
spend  money  ;  and  as  she  had  plenty  to  spend, 
you  could  generally  find  her  of  a  morning  run- 
ning about  among  the  shops.  So  when  Ran- 
kell's  shop  got  to  be  known  a  little,  I  suppose 
she  went  there.  Anyhow,  he  saw  her  some- 
where. Of  course  he  did  n't  know  her  ;  he 
never  did.     But  one  Sunday  he  turned  up  at 


36  RankelVs  Remains. 

St.  Peter's  in  a  gallery  seat  where  he  could  look 
down  at  the  Lees  ;  and  from  that  time,  sir,  he 
never  missed  a  Sunday,  and  was  always  in  his 
place  before  anybody  else.  I  used  to  watch  him 
sometimes  when  the  sermon  was  heav}^,  —  it  was 
apt  to  be  heavier  in  those  days  than  it  is  now. 
As  a  rule  he  was  n't  paying  much  attention ; 
he  was  generally  looking  down,  with  just  such 
a  queer  smile  as  he  has  now,  at  Mary  Lee's 
bonnet.  She  used  to  wear  a  big  bonnet  lined 
with  blue.  They  would  call  it  frightfully  ugly 
nowadays ;  but  it  showed  off  a  pretty  face 
uncommonly  well. 

"  I  used  to  laugh  with  Mary  about  her  con- 
quest, and  she  didn't  like  it  much.  He  was  a 
horrid  little  vulgar  tradesman,  she  used  to  say ; 
and  so  he  was,  even  if  he  couldn't  help  it. 
Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  she  took  a 
fever  when  she  was  n't  much  over  twenty,  and 
it  carried  her  off.  She  was  ill  two  or  three 
weeks,  and  while  she  was  ill,  her  father  told  me, 
a  curious  thing  happened.  Every  single  night  a 
man  the  servants  did  n't  know  would  call  to  ask 


Rankell.  37 


how  she  was.  They  got  to  wondering  who  it 
could  be ;  he  never  left  his  name.  She  died,  I 
said,  did  n't  I  ?  They  buried  her  from  old  St. 
Peter's.  Everybody  came,  and  the  body  of  the 
church  was  full.  About  the  middle  of  the  ser- 
vice I  happened  to  look  up,  and  there  was  Ran- 
kell all  alone  in  the  gallery,  looking  just  as  he 
looked  of  a  Sunday,  only  that  the  grin  was 
gone.  His  face,  sir,  was  a  study.  When  a  man 
that  looks  mean  feels  a  thing  he  shows  it  in  a 
way  that 's  awful.  I  felt  horribly  about  Mary, 
you  know  ;  but  when  I  caught  my  first  glimpse 
of  that  queer  little  man  looking  queerer  than 
ever  I  could  n't  help  smiling.  But,  I  tell  you, 
when  he  looked  down  and  caught  my  eye  I 
did  n't  smile  any  more.  And  I  did  n't  smile 
afterwards,  when  they  had  taken  her  out  into 
the  churchyard,  and  I  saw  Rankell  standing 
back  all  alone,  where  the  family  would  not  be 
apt  to  see  him,  without  a  sign  of  a  grin  on  his 
mean  little  face. 

"  When  the  funeral  was  over  he  didn't  move 
for  a  minute,  so  I  went  up  and  held  out  my 


38  RanhelVs  Remains. 

hand.  I  knew  him  a  little  ;  I  'd  bought  gloves 
and  things  at  his  shop.  Well,  he  took  my  hand 
and  squeezed  it  hard,  and  shook  it.  Then  he 
said  it  was  a  fine  day,  though  it  was  really  a 
nasty  raw  one  ;  and  then  he  blew  his  nose  with 
a  big  red  handkerchief,  and  walked  off  without 
another  word. 

"  Of  course  the  servants  were  there  ;  and 
when  Rankell  was  well  out  of  the  way,  one  of 
the  men  came  up  to  me  and  asked  if  I  would 
tell  him  who  had  been  talking  to  me.  I  thought 
he  was  abominably  rude  ;  but  before  I  had  time 
to  say  so,  he  begged  my  pardon.  He  asked,  it 
seems,  because  he  felt  sure  it  was  the  stranger 
that  had  kept  coming  to  inquire  for  Miss  Mary. 
I  happened  to  go  by  RankelFs  shop  later,  and, 
do  you  know,  the  fellow  had  closed  it  for  the 
day. 

"  It  was  n't  long  before  he  moved  down  into 
the  side-aisle,  in  a  pew  next  the  Lees'.  And 
when  old  Philip  Lee,  Mary's  father,  died,  Ran- 
kell bought  theirs.  It  must  be  forty  years  since 
Mary  died ;    I  could  n't  have  been  much  above 


Rankell.  39 


twenty  at  the  time  ;  but  only  last  week,  as  I 
came  out  of  church,  I  noticed  Rankell,  just  in 
front  of  me,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
place  where  she  was  buried.  I  looked  too. 
There  were  fresh  flowers  on  her  grave.  It  was 
just  about  this  time  of  year  she  died." 


V. 

And  this,  I  think,  is  all  I  know  of  Rankell's 
life,  beyond  the  three  stories  I  am  going  to 
tell.  It  is  little  enough  ;  and  so  much  of  it 
is  only  hearsay,  that  I  find  myself  wondering 
now  whether  perhaps  I  might  not  have  done 
better  by  trying  to  fill  the  outline.  But,  after 
all,  this  outline,  slight  though  it  be,  is  what 
has  made  Rankell  seem  to  me  what  he  seems 
to-day.  So  I  think  that  by  leaving  it  here  in 
all  its  imperfection  I  shall  do  my  work  most 
truly. 


II. 

THE    WYBOKNES. 


'  I  ^HE  first  of  my  three  stories  has  to  do  with 
■*"  Mr.  Wyborne,  of  whom  I  have  already 
told  something.  His  family  was  popularly  sup- 
posed to  have  been  in  easy  circumstances  since 
the  beginning  of  time,  or  at  all  events  since 
the  settlement  of  the  country.  But  in  point 
of  fact,  I  believe,  the  Wyborne  fortune  began 
with  the  successful  trading  of  a  person  of  ob- 
scure origin,  who  flourished  a  generation  or  two 
before  the  Revolution  and  was  permitted  by 
the  lax  custom  of  the  time  to  engrave  on  his 
plate  the  arms  of  an  English  family  whose 
name  resembled  his  own.  His  descendants 
carefully  preserved  the  fortune,  made  the  arms 
a  prime  article  of  faith,  and  bequeathed  to  the 
Lawrence  Wyborne  of  whom  I  write,  a  con- 
siderable landed  estate  not  far  from  town,  an 
income  —  from  rent   and  other  sources  —  suffi- 


44  RankelVs  Remains. 

cient  to  preclude  the  necessity  of  doing  any- 
thing, and  all  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman. 

He  married  for  love,  but  had  the  good  sense 
to  fall  in  love  with  a  lady  by  no  means  penni- 
less ;  and  for  many  years  he  lived  an  unevent- 
ful, inoffensive  life.  In  a  private  wa}r  he  became 
pretty  well  known.  For  both  he  and  his  wife 
were  fond  of  company ;  and  having  a  fine 
house  in  the  country  and  another  in  town, 
and  being  accustomed  to  the  use  of  what  they 
had,  however  fine,  they  kept  up,  year  in,  year 
out,  a  round  of  entertainments  that  ultimately 
made  them  as  famous  in  society  as  an}7body 
can  be  in  America. 

Mrs.  Wyborne,  however,  was  old-fashioned 
enough  to  be  mindful  of  her  matronly  duties. 
At  intervals  her  social  career  was  interrupted 
by  the  birth  of  a  child.  I  forget  how  many 
were  born ;  three  survived,  —  two  sons,  and  a 
daughter,  a  good  deal  younger  than  her  brothers. 
The  birth  of  this  daughter  marked  the  turning- 
point  in  the  famil}r  history.  Mrs.  Wyborne 
never  recovered    from    the    effects  of  her   con- 


The  Wybornes.  45 


finement ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  so 
she  died,  leaving  her  husband  for  the  first  time 
face  to  face  with  the  serious  facts  of  life. 

These  he  faced  with  the  courage  of  a  gentle- 
man. He  sent  his  boys  to  a  boarding-school 
and  subsequently  to  college,  where  they  learned 
as  little  and  enjoyed  as  much  as  most  youths 
in  easy  circumstances.  He  engaged  for  his 
daughter  a  governess  of  unimpeachable  charac- 
ter, who  was  neither  pretty  nor  clever,  and  so 
managed  for  years  to  keep  her  in  the  house 
without  being  accused  of  intending  to  marry 
her.  And  feeling,  no  doubt,  lonely,  and  being 
perforce  prevented  from  living  the  active  social 
life  that  had  absorbed  his  energies  in  his 
wife's  time,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  man- 
agement of  his  property.  This  he  proceeded, 
as  the  phrase  goes,  to  improve.  He  greatly 
beautified  his  country-place  ;  he  set  out  trees, 
cultivated  flowers,  and  with  the  help  of  pro- 
fessional advice  achieved  some  triumphs  of  land- 
scape gardening.  He  started  model  farms,  too  ; 
and  in  general  attempted  to  better  the  condi- 


46  RankelVs  Remains. 

tion  of  his  tenants,  by  way  incidentally  of  mak- 
ing the  portions  of  his  estate  which  brought 
him  an  income  do  a  little  more  towards  meet- 
ing his  increasing  expenses.  And  finding  after 
a  while  that  model  farms  did  not  produce  model 
farmers  anxious  to  pay  more  than  their  neigh- 
bors for  the  use  of  land,  he  began,  with  varying 
fortune,  to  dabble  in  outside  affairs, — purely, 
he  was  careful  to  state,  with  a  view  to  judicious 
and  profitable  investment. 


II. 

My  knowledge  of  him  began  at  this  time. 
Hospitable  temper  and  habit  were  still  strong 
within  him.  So  when  his  boys  came  home  for 
a  vacation  they  were  free  to  bring  with  them 
what  friends  they  pleased,  sure  of  a  royal  wel- 
come. As  I  went  to  school  with  the  Wy borne 
boys,  in  the  classes  with  Howard,  the  younger, 
I  was  often  bidden  to  these  vacation  festivals, 
which  we  were  accustomed  to  think  the  per- 
fection  of  earthly   bliss.      No    one,   I   suspect, 


Tlie  Wybornes*  47 

really  cared  much  for  Howard  Wyborne,  —  a 
commonplace  youth  of  uncertain  temper  and 
a  tendency  to  unwinsome  weakness  of  charac- 
ter ;  yet,  thanks  to  his  father's  hospitality, 
which  I  honestly  believe  the  simple-minded 
gentleman  dispensed  without  a  thought  beyond 
the  pleasure  of  his  guests,  Howard  was  what 
is  called  popular.  Without  analyzing  our 
motives,  we  bore  with  his  oddities  and  treated 
him  as  if  he  were  the  best  fellow  imaginable. 
In  return  came  the  regular  invitations  to  the 
Wybornes\  for  which  we  eagerly  curtailed  the 
time  allotted  for  displaying  to  our  affectionate, 
uninteresting  families  the  growing  results  of 
the  educational  processes  to  which  we  were 
subjected. 

As  I  write,  there  come  back  memories  of 
many  visits  to  the  old  colonial  place,  with  its 
terraces,  and  its  lawns  sloping  down  to  the 
river  where  we  could  swim  and  row  at  will, 
and  its  gardens  always  full  of  bright  flowers, 
and  its  tall  elms  rustling  in  the  summer  breeze  ; 
of  winter  visits  too,  with  coasting,  and  skating, 


48  RankelVs  Remains. 

and  dances,  and  ghost-stories  before  wood-fires 
blazing  on  tall  brass  andirons,  and  sundry  warm 
drinks  provocative  of  delicious  dizziness.  But 
one  visit,  I  think,  fairly  typical  of  the  rest,  is 
alone  worth  dwelling  on ;  and  that  because 
some  trifling  things  that  happened  then  have  a 
little  bearing  on  the  story  I  mean  to  tell. 


III. 

It  was  just  before  I  went  to  college.  Law- 
rence Wyborne,  the  older  son,  was  already 
there  ;  and  Anna,  his  sister,  was  just  emerging 
from  the  condition  of  a  little  girl.  It  was  then, 
I  remember,  that  I  first  found  her  something 
more  than  a  tiresome  fact.  The  visit  was  in 
winter ;  and  the  day  after  we  arrived  Miss  Anna 
declared  an  intention  of  joining  us  in  skating. 
Lawrence,  the  most  good-natured  of  boys,  said 
it  would  be  great  fun ;  Howard  grumbled  some 
bad  language  which  nothing  but  my  manners 
prevented  me  from  echoing.  But  when  we  got 
to  the  ice,  and  Lawrence  had  gallantly  strapped 


The  Wybomes.  49 


his  sister's  skates,  and  we  were  fairly  skimming 
over  the  little  pond,  with  dark  evergreens  all 
about  and  bright  sunlight  overhead,  I  began 
to  change  my  mind  ;  for  the  sparkle  of  little 
Anna's  eyes,  and  the  flush  of  her  cheeks  in  the 
frosty  air,  and  the  dark  hair  waving  under  her 
little  far  cap  that  had  jauntily  slipped  to  one 
side,  made  her  very  pleasant  to  look  at.  Natu- 
rally I  asked  her  to  skate  with  me;  so  hand  in 
hand  we  went  flying  from  one  end  of  the  pond 
to  the  other.  She  could  skate,  I  found,  as  well 
as  anybody.  There  was  little  chance  for  talk, 
though;  all  I  remember  is  that  as  we  ceased 
our  strokes  at  the  end  of  the  pond,  and  went 
wheeling  about  in  a  great  circle,  she  found 
breath  enough  to  exclaim,  "Isn't  this  fun?" 
and  I  to  rejoin,  "Isn't  it?"  These  speeches, 
for  the  rest,  exhaustively  expressed  my  mental 
condition. 

I  had  come  from  school  with  Howard  to  stay  a 
week.     We  had  had  a  short  railway  journey,  en- 
livened by  surreptitious  cigarettes.     And  these 
had  made  me  so  unwell  that  they  quite  spoilt 
4 


50  RankelVs  Remains. 

the  dinner  which  awaited  us  when,  early  in  the 
evening,  we   were   driven   up   to  the    rounded 
porch,  whose  wooden  pillars  with  florid  Corin- 
thian capitals  looked  like  marble  in  the  moon- 
light.  A  number  of  young  people,  boys  and  girls, 
were  already  at  the  house,  with  Mrs.  Henderson, 
Mr.  Wyborne's  cousin,  to  chaperon  them.    This 
Mrs.  Henderson  was  a  widow,  with  a  comfort- 
able fortune  and  no  children.    She  liked  society, 
and  was  good-natured  enough  now  and  then  to 
like  young  people.     And  to  this  day  I  rarely 
think  of  Mr.  Wyborne,  as  he  used  to  sit  at  the 
head  of  his  table  beyond  the  silver  candelabra 
with   twisted   branches,    without   calling   up    a 
companion  picture  of  Mrs.  Henderson  beside  a 
little  table  in  the  drawing-room,  on  which  stood 
a  moderateur  lamp  with  a  classical  bronze  base. 
Her  silk  skirts  were  arranged  in  folds  that  never 
moved  in  a  whole  evening.     She  wore  fine  laces 
about  her  throat  and  wrists;  her  dresses  were 
usually  so  cut  as  to  show  that  throat  and  wrists 
were  still  pretty ;  and  as  she  sat  disdaining  the 
back  of  her  chair,  after  the  manner  of  the  last 


The  Wybornes.  51 


generation,  her  bright  eyes  with  good-natured 
lines  growing  about  them,  and  the  almost  girl- 
ish smile  with  which  now  and  then  she  showed 
her  firm  white  teeth,  made  her,  in  spite  of  gray 
barrel-curls  surmounted  by  a  lace  cap  with  pur- 
ple ribbons,  an  ideal  presiding  figure  for  the 
merry  company  about  her. 

What  girls  were  in  the  party  have  nothing  to 
do  with  this  story,  except  that  their  pretty 
figures  helped  make  up  the  picture  I  am  trying 
to  draw.  But  two  or  three  of  the  boys  in  Liter 
days  played  some  part  in  the  events  I  am  to 
tell.  There  was  Tom  Henderson,  a  nephew  of 
our  amiable  patroness ;  he  was  a  clumsy  youth, 
with  good  clothes  of  which  he  took  little  care, 
and  marked  precocity  in  the  societ}7  of  stable- 
boys.  There  was  young  Dudley,  whose  family, 
Mr.  Wyborne  once  said,  was  one  of  the  oldest 
in  America,  and  who  nevertheless,  perhaps  be- 
cause the  family  in  question  was  no  longer  rich, 
would  have  been  quite  like  anybody  of  humbler 
origin  but  for  a  knack  of  caricature  that  filled 
us  with  envy.     I  still  have  somewhere  one  of 


52  RankelVs  Remains. 

his  expressive  if  artistically  imperfect  sketches. 
It  was  executed  by  candlelight  in  Howard's 
room,  while  Howard  and  I,  in  our  night-clothes, 
looked  on  with  shivering  admiration.  It  repre- 
sents the  presentation  of  Dick  Hastings,  recog- 
nizable by  his  heavy  boots,  to  Mr.  Wyborne 
and  Mrs.  Henderson,  recognizable  respectively 
by  a  beard  vast  enough  to  nest  all  Audubon's 
birds,  and  barrel  curls  that  might  have  come 
straight  from  the  cooper's. 

This  Dick  Hastings,  who  had  just  appeared 
to  us  for  the  first  time,  was  in  Lawrence's  class 
at  college,  and  had  been  invited  to  occupy  the 
second  single  bed  in  Lawrence's  room,  just  as  I 
had  come  to  occupy  that  in  Howard's.  He  ar- 
rived at  about  dusk,  rather  unexpectedly.  Mrs. 
Henderson  was  dressing  for  dinner,  and  Mr. 
Wyborne,  by  some  accident,  not  at  hand  ;  so 
Hastings  was  bundled  up  to  Lawrence's  room, 
to  make  himself  fine  for  the  evening.  Before 
he  and  Lawrence  appeared  we  were  all  gathered 
in  the  drawing-room,  dressed  in  our  best.  Their 
approach  was  announced  by  a  piercing  creak  of 


Tlie  Wybornes.  53 


shoe-leather ;  and  as  they  entered  they  were  in 
queer  contrast.  Lawrence,  a  handsome  boy, 
could  never  help  being  neat ;  and  beside  his 
friend  his  attire  seemed  even  more  perfect  than 
ever.  For  Dick  Hastings,  a  pale  youth  with 
signs  of  a  coming  blond  moustache  and  many 
freckles,  looked  by  no  means  like  the  rest  of  the 
company.  His  coat,  though  it  did  not  fit  him, 
was  tidy  enough,  and  his  linen  immaculate ; 
but  his  trousers,  which  bagged  immensely  at 
the  knee,  were  evidently  the  same  in  which  he 
had  travelled,  and  his  heavy  top-boots,  whence 
came  the  creak,  were  covered  with  the  stains 
of  mud.  His  hair,  too,  which  was  parted  just 
above  his  left  ear  and  well  enough  brushed  in 
front,  looked  behind,  where  invisible  from  his 
dressing-glass,  innocent  even  of  a  comb.  And 
though  Mr.  Wy borne  and  Mrs.  Henderson  were 
too  well  bred  to  vary  their  welcome,  we  felt 
instinctively  that  this  unkempt  youth  put  their 
breeding  to  a  test, 

Hastings   shook    hands   stiffly,   said    nothing 
whatever  in  answer  to  their  pleasant  speeches, 


54  RankdVs  Remains. 

preserved  throughout  dinner  impenetrable  si- 
lence and  an  aspect  of  gloom,  declined  to  join 
in  after-dinner  games,  and  finally  announced  — 
thus  opening  his  lips  for  the  first  independent 
time  —  that  he  felt  tired  and  guessed  he  would 
go  to  bed.  So  to  bed  he  went,  followed  by 
Lawrence,  whose  hospitality  would  not  suffer 
him  to  desert  a  guest. 

Our  boyish  breeding  was  by  no  means  equal 
to  that  of  our  elders.  In  Howard's  room  we 
talked  Hastings  over  to  our  heart's  content. 
Dudley,  as  I  said,  executed  a  drawing  of  his 
advent;  Tom  Henderson,  having  sententiously 
described  him  as  a  thundering  scrub,  sought  the 
restless  sleep  of  indigestion  ;  and  Howard  sur- 
mised that  we  should  not  get  much  fun  out  of  a 
fellow  like  that. 

"Lawrence  is  a  queer  chap,"  he  remarked 
later,  when  we  were  fairly  tucked  up  in  our 
respective  beds. 

"  I  like  him  anyway,"  said  I,  partly,  I  fear, 
from  a  sense  of  hospitable  obligation. 

"  Oh,   of  course,"    said   Howard,   curtly  ;    it 


Tlie  Wyborncs.  55 


never  entered  a  Wyborne's  head  that  a  Wy borne 
could  command  from  outsiders  anything  but 
admiration.  "  Only,  you  see,  he  is  always  freez- 
ing to  some  confounded  fool,  like  that  country- 
man he  has  scared  up  now." 

"  Where  did  you  say  he  came  from  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"Lord  knows.  Somewhere  up  in  the  coun- 
ty. His  father  is  a  doctor  there,  Lawrence 
says.  Good-night."  And  in  a  minute  more 
Master  Howard  was  peacefully  snoring. 

Hastings's  boots  it  was  that  gave  rise  to  the 
two  little  incidents  I  am  going  to  recall.  The 
next  day  Tom  Henderson  came  to  us  with  a 
grin. 

"  I  say,  fellows,"  he  began,  "  that  chap  Hast- 
ings has  been  and  asked  me  where  they  keep 
the  blacking,  and  I  told  him  I  'd  send  him  some, 
and  I  've  just  been  down  to  the  village  and 
bought  half  a  dozen  bottles.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose he  '11  say  ?  " 

What  we  supposed  I  do  not  remember ;  but 
the   result  of  Henderson's   pleasantry  was   an 


56  RankelVs  Remains. 

unexpected  visit  from  Lawrence,  who  came 
panting  up  to  him  a  little  later  and  called  him 
aside.  At  first  we  could  not  hear  what  they 
said,  but  as  the  talk  waxed  warm  their  voices 
rose. 

"I'll  do  what  I  like,"  exclaimed  Henderson. 

"If  you  do,"  said  Lawrence,  "you'll  come 
here  no  more.  And  if  it  was  n't  my  own  house 
I  'd  thrash  you  now."  Whereupon  he  turned 
away. 

"  Like  to  see  you  !  "  shouted  Henderson  after 
him,  very  red  in  the  face.  Bat  from  that  time 
throughout  the  visit  he  behaved  with  circum- 
spection. 

From  that  time,  too,  Hastings's  boots  were 
beautifully  polished.  He  never  changed  them, 
though.     Evidently  they  were  his  only  pair. 

A  day  or  two  later,  as  we  were  dressing,  there 
came  a  tap  at  our  door,  and  Anna's  voice  was 
heard  calling  Howard. 

"  I  want  your  old  pumps,"  she  said,  when  he 
opened  the  door.  Miss  Anna,  who  was  a  bit 
spoilt,  was  accustomed  to  talk  imperiously. 


The  Wybornes.  57 


"  What  for  ?  "  asked  Howard. 

"I  want  them:  that's  enough,"  was  her 
answer.     And  she  got  them. 

Howard  was  ready  for  dinner  before  me.  As 
he  passed  into  the  hall  I  heard  Lawrence's 
voice  greet  him,  and  they  walked  off  together. 
A  few  minutes  later,  when  I  emerged  from 
the  room,  I  descried  Miss  Anna,  pumps  in 
hand,  stealing  on  tiptoe  toward  Hastings's  door. 
There  she  tapped,  and  standing  behind  the 
doorpost  held  out  the  shoes.  I  saw  the  door 
open  slightly.  Then,  as  Hastings  caught  sight 
of  the  proffered  gift,  he  dashed  the  door  open, 
snatched  the  pumps,  and  flung  them  with  all 
his  strength  after  the  scampering  little  figure 
that  he  did  not  stop  to  look  at.  Anna's  foot 
slipped,  and  she  fell  heavily  against  a  chair.  In 
a  moment  Hastings,  half-dressed,  was  at  her 
side,  and  I  at  his  heels. 

"  My  God!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  've  killed  her." 

Poor  Anna's  forehead  was  bleeding  from  a 
rough  gash,  but  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  tell  anybody,"  she  said  faintly.    "  You 


58  RankelVs  Remains. 


did  n't  mean  to.  You  did  n't  understand.  I 
thought  you  would  like  them."  And  the  little 
woman  fainted. 

Anna's  command,  possibly  having  the  sanction 
that  attaches  itself  to  last  words,  no  matter  how 
unwittingly  uttered,  seemed  to  me  sacred. 

"  Hide  the  shoes,  you  fool!"  I  said.  "  I  '11  go 
and  call  somebody." 

With  a  dazed  look  he  obeyed  me,  and  no- 
body ever  knew  how  poor  Anna  came  to  grief. 
The  wound  was  not  serious,  to  be  sure,  but  the 
stitches  left  a  scar.  This,  when  she  grew  up, 
caused  her  to  part  her  hair  on  one  side,  and 
draw  it  over  her  forehead,  —  a  method  of  hair- 
dressing  that  gave  rise  among  conventional 
people  to  a  belief  that  she  was  rather  fast. 

Hastings  went  home  next  day,  pretending 
that  a  letter  called  him.  It  was  only  after  some 
hours,  when  a  box  of  gaudy,  inexpensive  flowers 
arrived,  with  his  compliments,  for  Anna,  that 
anybody  spoke  of  him. 

"  A  very  quiet  young  man,"  Mr.  Wyborne 
called  him. 


The  Wybornes.  59 


"  Not  wholly  at  ease,"  was  Mrs.  Henderson's 
comment. 

"  He  is  awfully  bright  when  you  know  him," 
said  Lawrence. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne.  "  He 
is  respectably  connected."  And  the  subject 
dropped. 

IV. 

I  shall  write  no  more  of  these  matters,  so 
trivial  to  those  of  whose  own  childhood  they 
formed  no  part.  I  have  told  enough,  I  think, 
to  show  what  the  old  life  at  the  Wybornes' 
was  like  ;  and  that  is  all  I  wished  to  do  here. 
For  a  good  many  years  had  passed,  and  with 
them  the  Civil  War,  before  the  matters  fell  out 
that  have  made  me  put  the  story  of  the  Wy- 
bornes in  this  book  concerning  Rankell. 

Lawrence  Wyborne  fell  at  Gettysburg.  His 
body  was  never  found.  All  that  we  knew  of  his 
end  came  from  Dick  Hastings,  who  was  in  the 
same  regiment  and  brought  home  his  effects. 

Howard,    who    like    his    brother    had    gone 


GO  BankelVs  Remains. 

straight  from  college  to  the  army,  was  wounded 
more  than  once,  but  came  home  at  last  un- 
manned. He  was  greatly  changed,  however, 
from  the  commonplace,  unamiable  gentleman 
of  means  that  he  would  have  grown  to  be  in 
times  of  peace.  Quiet  life  he  found  unbearable. 
After  some  doubt  as  to  how  he  should  direct 
his  energy,  he  violated  all  family  tradition,  and, 
I  suspect,  gravely  disturbed  his  father,  by  tak- 
ing, like  most  of  his  fellows,  to  a  down-town 
life.  A  few  years  after  the  war  he  was  a  bus- 
tling member  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  ready 
among  the  first  to  smash  such  hats  as  unwritten 
law  forbade  good  brokers  to  wear. 

The  strain  of  these  years  had  told  on  Mr. 
Wy borne.  He  was  grayer  than  he  used  to  be  ; 
he  had  lost  one  or  two  teeth,  and  spoke  with  a 
slight  lisp.  When  the  boys  went  to  the  war  he 
stopped  entertaining,  and  he  never  left  off  the 
mourning  he  wore  for  Lawrence.  His  manner, 
to  be  sure,  kept  the  old  courteous  charm  ;  but 
as  time  went  on  he  grew  grave  and  silent,  often 
looking    worried,    and    seeming    absent-minded 


The  Wi/hornes.  Gl 


when  you  spoke  to  him.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
Anna,  I  believe  he  would  never  have  opened 
his  house  again.  But  of  course  it  was  necessary 
to  bring  her  out ;  so  one  year  a  new  round  of 
festivities  began  at  the  old  Wy borne  place. 

To  some  of  these  I  went.  Young  girls 
thought  them  as  perfect  as  I  used  to  think  the 
Wybornes'  parties  in  the  old  days  ;  but  to  me 
these  new  gayeties  seemed  forced.  Mr.  Wy- 
borne  was  more  formal  than  he  used  to  be ;  his 
hospitality  was  becoming  a  matter  rather  of 
manners  than  of  heart.  And  as  for  Howard,  he 
voted  the  whole  thing  a  bore  until  the  dining- 
room  opened  ;  then  he  found  consolation  which 
usually  absorbed  him. 

The  first  of  these  parties  I  distinctly  remem- 
ber. It  was  a  garden-party,  given  one  fine 
summer  afternoon  to  introduce  Anna  ;  and  as 
all  the  world  came,  you  naturally  saw  a  great 
many  people  you  did  not  know.  You  saw  others 
whom  you  knew  only  by  sight ;  for  Mr.  Wy- 
borne  had  always  maintained  that  when  you 
gave    a   general   party,   and    had    the    room,  it 


62  RankelVs  Remains. 

was  only  kind  to  pass  the  compliment  of  an 
invitation  to  all  the  respectable  people  you 
knew. 

"Half  the  time,"  he  would  say,  "they  won't 
come  ;  and  if  they  do  come,  no  harm  is  done. 
You  forget  it  next  day,  and  they  always 
remember   it." 

Thus  it  was  that  on  this  occasion  society,  for 
the  first  and  last  time,  saw  Rankell ;  Mr.  Wy- 
borne,  it  appeared,  had  lately  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  him  in  a  business  way.  And  apart 
from  Anna,  —  who  had  grown  so  pretty  that 
even  without  her  vivacity  she  would  have  been 
a  belle,  —  it  is  Rankell  that  I  chiefly  remember. 
Though  I  came  early,  he  was  there  before  me. 
Subsequently  I  learned  that  he  had  arrived  ex- 
actly at  the  hour  named  in  the  invitation,  to 
find  nobody  ready  to  receive  him  ;  and  as  he 
wore  a  dress  suit  —  apparently  made  for  the 
occasion  —  Mrs.  Henderson,  when  she  at  last 
appeared  to  receive  the  company,  had  the 
misfortune    to    mistake    him  for  a   waiter. 

By  thereafter  devoting  to  the  awkward  little 


The  Wybomes.  63 


man  as  much  attention  as  she  could  spare,  she 
tried  to  atone  for  this  misadventure ;  and  Anna 
had  smiles  for  him;  and  Mr.  Wyborne  neglected 
other  people  in  his  efforts  to  pat  Rankell  at 
ease.  But  for  all  that,  nobody  could  quite  for- 
get that,  though  invited,  he  had  not  been 
expected  ;  and  Rankell,  as  he  stood  unrespon- 
sively  silent  in  his  dress  suit,  looked  aware 
of  the  fact.  At  last  Mr.  Wyborne  took  him 
away  from  the  company  for  a  walk  about  the 
grounds  ;  but  even  this  excited  from  him  no 
further  expression  than  that  he  should  think  a 
place  like  this  must  require  a  great  deal  of 
money.  And  when  finally,  declining  refresh- 
ment, he  took  his  departure  without  a  formal 
farewell,  everybody  was  relieved. 

"  The  truth  is,  my  dear  Lawrence, "  was  Mrs. 
Henderson's  comment  on  this  incident,  "  that 
no  man  yet  born  ever  understood  how  to  make 
out  a  list  of  invitations.  Positively  you  must 
leave  all  that  to  me.'! 

Mr.  Wyborne  was  more  than  glad  to  do  so. 
It  was  Mrs.  Henderson,  then,  with  unchanged 


64  Rank  ell's  Remains. 

smile  and  curls,  who  acted  as  Anna's  chaperon 
in  society,  where  the  young  woman's  toilets  — 
always  as  brilliant  as  the  extreme  limits  of  taste 
permitted  —  were  the  despair  of  her  contem- 
poraries. This  fact,  together  with  the  evident 
interest  of  Mrs.  Henderson  in  her  new  duties, 
led  people  to  whisper  that  the  brisk  old  lady 
had  views  of  her  own  about  Anna. 

For  besides  being  pretty  and  amiable,  the  girl 
was  commonl}r  regarded  as  a  good  match  ;  and 
young  Tom  Henderson,  who  had  done  good  ser- 
vice in  the  war,  was  come  back  to  figure  as  a 
leader  of  fashion,  with  habits  quite  as  expensive 
as  his  income  could  stand.  His  aunt,  it  was 
thought  then,  had  a  natural  anxiety  to  provide 
for  him  and  for  Anna  at  one  stroke.  The  only 
serious  obstacle  in  her  way  was  that,  very  un- 
fortunately, the  young  gentleman's  catholicit}r 
of  taste  in  matters  feminine  was  a  trifle 
more  obvious  than  the  customs  of  his  time 
permitted. 


The  Wybornes.  65 


V. 

At  this  period  I  began  to  see  a  good  deal  of 
Howard  Wyborne.  For,  finding  home  life  dull, 
he  took  to  dining  mostly  at  the  Club,  where  I 
dined  too.  And  though  there  was  little  sym- 
pathy between  us,  our  old  intimacy  made  us 
such  good  friends  that  we  often  talked  with  a 
freedom  that  could  never  have  come  had  we 
met  only  in  the  later  times. 

One  night  when  I  happened  to  be  dining 
with  him,  he  asked  me  in  the  course  of  talk  if 
I  knew  a  man  named  Asa  Cutting. 

"  Fat,  elderly  person?"  I  asked.  "  Gray  chin- 
beard  and  big  watch-chain  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Howard.  "  He  is  a  real-estate 
agent,  or  something  of  the  kind." 

"  I  know  him  by  sight,"  I  said.  "  I  believe 
he  looks  after  some  of  RankeH's  business." 

"  Rankell !  "  exclaimed  Howard.  "  By  Jove ! 
Do  you  suppose  it  was  Rankell  that  sent  him 
to  the  Governor?  You  ought  to  have  seen  them 
together." 


66  RankelVs  Remains. 

"Who?" 

"  Why,  Cutting  and  my  father.  It  was  as 
good  as  a  play."  And  Howard  went  on  to  tell 
the  story. 

Mr.  Wyborne,  it  appeared  to  my  surprise, 
had  found  himself  in  temporary  want  of  money ; 
so  he  had  sent  for  this  Cutting,  with  a  view  to 
placing  a  mortgage  on  one  of  the  farms  about 
the  old  country-house.  The  day  before  Howard 
told  me  the  story,  Cutting,  who  had  taken  the 
matter  in  charge,  unexpectedly  presented  him- 
self. He  was  a  ponderous,  awkward  man, 
whose  fat  right  hand  occupied  half  its  time  in 
running  pudgy  fingers  through  his  beard,  and 
the  rest  in  fumbling  with  the  enormous  watch- 
chain  that  decorated  his  protuberant  person. 

Mr.  Wyborne  began  the  conversation  by  ask- 
ing if  the  business  was  arranged. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Cutting,  awkwardly.  "  It  can 
be  done,  though,  if  you  choose  to  go  on  with  it." 

"  That  question  was  decided,"  said  Mr. 
Wyborne,  "  when  I  placed  the  matter  in  your 
hands." 


The  Wybornes.  67 


"  Of  course,  sir,"  said  Cutting.  "  Only  another 
question  lias  turned  up." 

"  Ha  !     Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  quite  the  reverse.  You  see  a  gen- 
tleman has  seen  the  property  and  likes  the 
looks  of  it — "  And  here  Cutting  hesitated, 
growing  red  in  the  face. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne,  testily,  "  what 
of  it  ?  Does  he  want  higher  interest  ?  I  never 
borrow  on  other  terms." 

"  Exactly,  sir.  He  knows  that.  You  can 
easily  get  what  you  want,  sir.  Only  this  gen- 
tleman thinks  so  well  of  the  property  that  he 
does  n't  know  but  what  he  might  like  to  buy." 

"I  thought  you  understood,"  said  Mr.  Wy- 
borne, waxing  warm,  "  that  I  have  no  intention 
of  dividing  the  estate." 

"Exactly,  sir.  That  is  quite  understood.  This 
gentleman  doesn't  propose  anything  of  the  kind. 
The  fact  is,  sir,  my  friend  is  prepared  to  make 
you  a  real  handsome  offer  for  the  whole." 

At  this  Mr.  Wyborne  quite  lost  his  temper. 
Cutting  knew,  he  declared,  what  was  wanted ; 


68  RankelVs  Remains. 


if  he  chose  to  execute  a  specific  commission, 
he  might  do  so;  but  nothing  could  make  this 
proposal  better  than  a  gratuitous  piece  of  im- 
pertinence. 

Cutting  muttered  something,  in  a  deprecatory 
tone,  about  a  rare  chance. 

Mr.  Wyborne  cut  him  short.  In  future,  he 
declared,  he  should  place  his  business  in  the 
hands  of  men  who  had  discretion  enough  to  act 
as  they  were  directed.  And  Cutting  retired  in 
discomfiture,  leaving  Mr.  Wyborne  to  vent  his 
wrath  on  Howard,  who  had  been  a  silent  spec- 
tator of  the  interview. 

"  The  idea  of  asking  the  Governor  to  sell !  " 
said  Howard,  as  he  finished  the  story.  "  You 
might  as  soon  ask  him  to  cut  his  whiskers.  He 
has  regular  English  ideas  about  that  precious 
estate  of  ours.  It  costs  him  no  end  of  money  ; 
but  I  believe  he  thinks  the  whole  world  would 
go  to  smash  if  he  undertook  to  part  with  an 
acre.  I  've  been  wondering  who  was  after  it. 
Cutting,  you  say,  does  business  for  Rankell.  I 
don't    believe    it    was    Rankell,    though.      He 


The  Wybornes.  69 


would  have  been  apt  to  speak  of  the  matter 
to  me  ;  I  know  him  pretty  well.  Besides,  what 
the  devil  should  he  want  of  a  place  like  ours  ? 
It 's  only  fit  for  a  gentleman." 


VI. 

About  this  time  it  was  apparent  that  some- 
thing was  going  wrong  with  the  Wybornes. 
Mr.  Wyborne  was  becoming  testy ;  the  uncer- 
tain temper  shown  in  Howard's  anecdote  was 
evident  even  to  casual  acquaintances.  And 
Howard  himself  grew  taciturn,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected when  one  of  his  disposition  had  something 
on  his  mind.  Anna,  however,  was  full  of  life 
and  gayety.  She  went  everywhere,  and  gener- 
ally seemed  uncommonly  successful  in  the  ordi- 
nary occupation  of  young  women  of  her  age 
and  rank,  —  that  is,  in  so  filling  her  time  with 
the  pursuit  of  amusement  that  she  had  no  lei- 
sure to  reflect  whether  she  was  really  amused 
or  not. 

Like  other  young  women  of  her  kind,  too,  she 


70  RankelVs  Remains. 

was  possessed  not  only  of  admirers  in  general, 
but  of  one  or  two  in  particular.  Dissatisfaction 
with  these,  it  was  surmised,  underlay  the  grow- 
ing infirmity  of  the  family  temper.  I  was  inclined 
to  this  view.  Neither  of  the  men  whose  names 
were  oftenest  coupled  with  hers  was  of  the  kind 
you  would  have  chosen.  One,  as  I  have  said, 
was  Tom  Henderson,  about  wdiose  gallantries 
many  stories  were  afloat.  The  other,  whose 
qualities  were  verjT  different,  was  Dick  Hastings. 
Hastings  was  grown  to  be  a  self-contained 
fellow,  whom  nobody  liked.  He  had  served  in 
the  army  with  some  little  distinction ;  and  his 
intimacy  with  the  Wybornes  had  lasted  because 
he  had  been  with  Lawrence  almost  until  he  fell, 
and  had  brought  home  what  last  news  of  him 
had  come.  After  the  war  he  had  disappeared 
for  a  while  from  general  view  ;  then  he  had 
turned  up  at  the  bar,  with  a  promising  practice. 
Irreproachable  enough  and  to  spare,  profession- 
ally and  in  private  life,  and  regarded  as  a  man 
with  a  future,  he  managed  to  alienate  whoever 
was  disposed  to  be  friendly.     What  a  man  who 


The  Wybornes.  71 


had  known  him  in  the  army  said  was  commonly 
accepted  as  final.  "  I  can't  stand  Hastings," 
exclaimed  this  usually  genial  personage.  "  He 
is  too  confoundedly  on  the  make." 

There  was  no  real  objection  to  Hastings,  of 
course.  Everybody  respected  his  ability ;  he 
was  aggressively  blameless.  But  for  all  that,  it 
was  by  no  means  pleasant  to  see  the  cold-blooded 
fellow,  in  search  of  money  and  position,  deliber- 
ately using  what  advantages  accident  gave  him 
to  slip  into  the  berth  he  wanted.  He  never 
went  into  society;  I  doubt  whether  he  was 
asked  anywhere.  In  public  it  was  Tom  Hender- 
son who  sent  Anna  flowers,  and  danced  and 
drove  and  walked  with  her,  after  the  manner  of 
orthodox  lovers.  But  now  and  then,  particu- 
larly of  a  Sunday,  you  would  find  Dick  Hast- 
ings at  the  Wybornes',  tete-a-tete  with  the 
dashing  young  woman,  who  generally  quieted 
down  for  his  benefit.  To  be  sure,  Anna  had 
tact  enough  to  adapt  herself  to  any  company ;  but 
it  certainly  looked  as  if  she  fancied  Hastings. 

So  people  talked  about  the  rivals,  wondering 


72  RanhelVs  Remains. 

which  it  would  be;  and  Mr.  Wyborne  could 
not  help  knowing  this,  and  knowing  too  that 
neither  of  the  men  was  of  the  kind  to  better  a 
girl's  condition  in  life.  Both  of  them  apparently 
wanted  money  and  position.  And  Tom's  rela- 
tion to  Mrs.  Henderson  made  it  impossible  to 
break  without  a  scandal;  while  Hastings,  whose 
friendship  with  Lawrence  Wyborne  everybody 
knew,  had  thereby  established  a  sacred  right  to 
visit  the  house  when  he  pleased. 

One  night  there  was  much  talk  at  the  Club 
about  Tom  Henderson.  He  had  figured  in  a 
scrape  with  a  pretty  French  governess  whom 
somebody  had  brought  home  from  Paris,  and 
who  had  been  hurriedly  dismissed  from  service. 
Various  versions  of  the  story  were  circulating. 
Suddenly  one  of  the  narrators  abruptly  stopped, 
and  began  to  chatter  irrelevantly.  Looking  up, 
I  saw  that  Howard  Wyborne  had  joined  the 
company.  The  impression  was  curiously  dis- 
agreeable. Each  of  this  group  of  men  about 
town,  chuckling  over  a  loose  story,  had  Anna 
Wyborne  in  mind. 


The  Wtjbornes. 


It  happened  that  Hastings  was  standing  by, 
and  as  the  group  separated  I  caught  his  eye. 
My  look  must  have  expressed  more  than  I 
meant  it  to,  for  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  with 
a  disagreeably  cynical  smile. 

"It  is  her  own  fault,"  he  said.  "A  woman 
in  her  position  knows  what  she  exposes  her- 
self to.  She  is  food  for  philosophy,  not  for 
sympathy." 

And  poor  Miss  Anna,  people  said,  was  bound 
to  make  her  choice  between  these  two  aspirants. 
It  was  commonly  thought,  too,  —  and  Hastings's 
mood  made  it  seem  likely,  —  that  she  began  to 
prefer  the  more  agreeable  if  the  more  erratic 
Henderson.  No  wonder  Mr.  Wyborne  and 
Howard  were  disturbed  in  mind. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  we  found 
out  that  there  were  other  things  to  trouble 
them.  The  story  of  what  these  things  were  I 
shall  tell,  not  just  as  it  came  to  me,  but  briefly 
as  in  the  end  I  learned  it  to  be. 


74  RankelVs  R 


emains. 


VII. 

I  have  said  already  that  Mr.  Wyborne,  from 
the  first,  found  the  management  of  his  propert\r 
troublesome.  As  time  went  on  it  grew  by  no 
means  less  so ;  but  he  rarely  permitted  himself 
to  brood  over  the  matter.  If  things  go  wrong, 
he  used  to  say,  you  only  make  them  worse  by 
thinking  of  them  ;  and  early  in  life  he  had  mas- 
tered the  fine  art  of  dismissing  from  his  mind 
what  he  could  not  comfortably  keep  there.  By 
the  time,  then,  that  Howard  abandoned  family 
tradition  to  become  a  man  of  business,  Mr. 
Wyborne  was  so  used  to  lack  of  ready  money 
that  it  rarely  occurred  to  him  to  want  any. 
Howard's  business,  however,  occasionally  re- 
quired cash ;  and  Howard,  accustomed  as  a 
matter  of  course  to  rely  on  his  father  for  any- 
thing of  that  kind,  made  no  scruple  to  ask  for 
what  he  wanted. 

For  a  long  time  Mr.  AVyborne  gave  uncom- 
plainingly ;    and   more   than    once,  it  is  fair  to 


The  Wybornes.  75 


remember,  Howard  returned  with  profit  what 
advances  his  father  made.  Oftener,  however, 
some  unexpected  turn  of  events  made  his  trans- 
actions result  in  loss.  It  was  not  surprising,  then, 
that  when  at  last  Howard  came  with  an  un- 
usually large  demand,  Mr.  Wyborne  hesitated. 

In  the  secrecy  of  his  library,  where  Howard, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  had  supposed  that  his 
father  did  little  but  doze  over  newspapers  and 
occasionally  take  down  respectable  books  with 
a  view  to  sustaining  his  favorite  notion  that  he 
was  a  man  of  culture,  Mr.  Wyborne  produced 
a  startling  array  of  business  papers.  These  he 
carefully  went  over  with  his  son.  They  showed 
how  for  years  his  affairs  had  ceased  to  prosper. 
What  advances  he  had  made  to  Howard  had 
demanded  fresh  mortgages  on  the  estate  that 
was  so  precious  to  him  in  all  but  pocket  ;  and 
now  not  an  acre  was  free  except  the  old  house 
and  the  grounds  about  it.  These  he  had  re- 
ligiously preserved. 

"  I  hate  to  say  no,  Howard,"  he  told  his  son, 
"  but  can  I  honestly  do  more  for  you  ?  " 


76  RankeWs  Remains. 

There  were  tears  in  Howard's  eyes  when  he 
found  how  matters  stood.  All  his  life,  with  the 
rudimentary  ancestor-worship  that  survives  in 
respectable  families,  he  had  thought  of  his 
father  as  one  to  whom  you  could  turn  with 
every-day  troubles,  secure  in  the  belief  that  he 
knew  no  such  trouble  of  his  own.  And  here 
these  folded  papers,  and  these  volumes  of  con- 
fused memoranda,  and  these  books  full  of  fig- 
ures, showed  how  for  years,  under  bis  quiet 
exterior,  Mr.  Wyborne  had  thought,  and  wor- 
ried, and  planned,  and  failed,  without  a  word 
of  complaint. 

"  Good  Heavens,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Howard, 
"  you  have  done  enough  and  too  much.  You 
shall  never  sacrifice  another  cent  for  me."  And 
he  held  out  both  hands,  fairly  breaking  down. 

Mr.  Wyborne  took  his  hands,  and  for  the 
moment,  I  believe,  thought  only  of  the  comfort 
of  being  free  at  last  to  speak  with  his  son  of  all 
that  was  on  his  mind.  Now  they  should  draw 
near  together  again,  just  as  they  had  been  near 
when  Howard  was  a  little  boy.    And  then  came 


The  Wybornes.  77 


planning  together  as  to  how  the  trouble  could 
best  be  cured.  In  the  end  the  plan  they  chose 
was  this. 

The  matter  that  Howard  had  in  mind  when 
he  made  this  last  appeal  for  help  was  different 
in  kind  from  anything  he  had  been  concerned  in 
before.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  acting  for 
himself,  or  at  least  with  no  other  judgment  to 
help  him  than  that  of  men  little  wiser  than  he. 
This  new  plan  argued  that  he  had  acted  better 
than  any  one  supposed.  With  no  imaginable  rea- 
son beyond  respect  for  his  ability,  a  well-known 
financier  had  confidentially  sent  for  him.  Un- 
fortunately he  was  not  at  liberty  to  say  who  the 
able  financier  was ;  for  the  sake  of  convenience 
he  would  call  him  Smith.  Well,  this  Smith  had 
set  forth  how  a  small  s}^ndicate  —  every  one  of 
them  known  for  solid  men  —  were  about  to  un- 
dertake an  operation  that  was  sure  in  a  few 
weeks  to  result  in  profit  amounting  to  hand- 
some fortunes  for  every  one  of  the  lot.  Want- 
ing a  young  man  to  help  them  in  some  details 
of  the  business,  they  had  determined  to  propose 


78  RankelVs  Remains. 


the  plan  to  Howard.  The  chance  was  such  as 
does  not  come  twice  in  a  lifetime.  This  Smith 
was  perhaps  the  ablest  financier  in  America. 
His  partners  were  second  only  to  him.  This 
operation  was  just  such  as  they  were  used  to. 
And  the  whole  responsibility  of  management 
rested  with  them  ;  Howard's  part  was  merely 
to  do  as  they  directed,  and  in  the  end  to  share 
profits  that  were  as  sure  as  any  earthly  thing 
could  be. 

Knowing  now  what  a  burden  he  had  been,  he 
declared  that  for  himself  he  would  have  no  part 
in  the  business.  But  this  he  would  do:  let 
him  have  what  money  could  be  raised,  and  he 
v/ould  use  it,  under  Smith's  direction,  just  as, 
if  he  had  had  any,  he  would  have  used  his  own. 
Then,  when  the  profits  came,  they  should  go 
straight  to  his  father  and  do  what  they  could 
to  repair  the  damage  that  had  been  done  the 
family  fortune. 

Howard  wished  he  were  at  liberty  to  tell  such 
details  of  the  plan  as  he  knew;  but  these  he  was 
in  honor  bound  to  keep  secret,  along  with  the 


The  Wy homes.  79 


names  of  Smith  and  his  partners.  More  than 
once,  however,  he  repeated  that  everybody 
knew  these  men  to  be  among  the  ablest  in 
America.  So  their  confidence  assured  him  that 
his  career  had  been  by  no  means  as  fruitless  as 
it  had  sometimes  seemed. 

Seeing  no  other  way,  Mr.  Wyborne  bowed  to 
fate,  and  at  last  reluctantly  consented  for  a 
while  to  encumber  this  last  part  of  his  lands 
that  he  had  hoped  always  to  keep  free. 


VIII. 

This  he  wished,  if  possible,  to  do  secretly. 
He  hated  the  idea  of  publicly  recording,  even 
for  a  few  weeks,  the  fact  that  any  one  but  a 
Wyborne  had  established  a  claim  to  property 
that  he  was  accustomed  to  regard  as  a  Wy- 
borne's  by  the  fundamental  laws  of  nature.  So 
he  went  to  a  man  whose  advice  he  often  took 
in  business  matters,  and  whom  he  knew  able 
to  give,  if  he  pleased,  the  help  that  Howard 
wanted.     This  was  Rankell. 


80  llankeWs  Remains. 

The  prudent  little  man  received  Mr.  Wyborne 
with  much  civility  in  the  inner  counting-room, 
where  more  than  once  they  had  sat  together 
before.  He  listened  attentively  to  all  Mr.  Wy- 
borne had  to  say.  Of  course  Mr.  Wyborne  was 
not  at  liberty  to  tell  why  he  needed  the  loan  he 
asked;  and  Rankell  did  not  even  inquire,  but 
contented  himself  with  pointing  out,  in  much 
detail,  the  irregularity  of  an  unrecorded  mort- 
gage. At  first  he  would  not  think  of  granting 
such  a  request ;  at  last,  however,  protesting  that 
he  would  do  so  unusual  a  thing  for  nobody  else 
on  earth,  he  consented,  with  other  lively  profes- 
sions of  esteem,  to  make  the  loan.  So,  very 
quietly,  the  papers  were  drawn  and  locked  up 
in  Mr.  Raukell's  boxes,  and  Howard  had  the 
money.  Whence  it  came  he  was  not  told,  for 
Rankell  had  made  absolute  secrecy  a  condi- 
tion of  the  loan.  It  was  a  friendly  transaction, 
so  remote  from  his  common  habits  of  business 
that  even  a  whisper  of  it  might  cause  him  grave 
inconvenience. 

For  a  while  matters  went  well.    Howard  gave 


The  Wybornes.  81 


good  accounts  of  the  progress  of  affairs,  and  at 
length  grew  jubilant  over  the  prospect  of  restor- 
ing at  a  single  stroke  the  failing  fortunes  of  his 
family.  I  remember  him  well  at  this  time,  full 
of  an  excitement  I  failed  to  understand,  laughing, 
bustling  about,  accosting  us  with  a  good-fellow- 
ship strange  to  his  habits  of  life.  I  remember, 
too,  how  Mr.  Wyborne  was  unlike  himself  in  a 
very  different  way:  how  at  the  Club  he  often 
sat  alone,  in  a  brown-study,  leaving  unread  in 
his  lap  papers  that  other  men  were  waiting  for. 
More  than  once,  it  afterwards  appeared,  Howard 
came  for  more  money ;  it  was  only  for  a  little 
while,  —  perhaps  only  for  a  few  days,  —  and  it 
was  sure  to  be  repaid  a  hundred-fold.  He  bor- 
rowed what  he  could  from  his  friends,  into  the 
bargain.  And  some  of  us  lent  him  quite  as 
much  as  we  could  afford,  out  of  remembrance, 
I  fancy,  of  the  pleasure  his  hospitality  used  to 
give  us. 

Then  came  a  time  when  the  papers  were  full  of 
confused  accounts  of  a  great  battle  for  wealth. 
There  was  a  certain  stock,  of  which  the  name  is 


82  BanhelVs  Remains. 


neither  here  nor  there,  much  in  demand,  and 
generally  to  be  had  if  you  chose  to  pay  for  it. 
Suddenly  it  grew  scarce,  and  those  who  were 
bound  to  have  it  must  pay  what  was  asked. 
The  price  steadily  rose,  until  it  was  doubled, 
trebled,  quadrupled;  the  whole  machinery  of 
finance  was  disturbed;  a  well-known  banker 
failed  ;  ministers  preached  timely  sermons  about 
the  sin  of  greed.  And  all  the  while  Howard 
grew  more  jubilant ;  matters  were  going  as  he 
wished. 


IX. 


One  night,  after  dinner,  I  was  leaving  the 
Club,  when  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  I  heard  some 
one  call  my  name.  Turning,  I  saw  that  it  was 
Howard  Wyborne,  whose  voice  I  had  not  recog- 
nized. As  he  came  up  to  me  and  took  my  arm, 
I  felt  that  his  hand  was  trembling. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me,"  he  said 
hurriedly.  "  I  can't  go  alone.  I  've  been  wait- 
ing for  somebody  to  come." 


The  Wijbornes.  83 


At  first  I  did  not  realize  that  anything  serious 
had  happened,  nor  yet  when  he  suddenly  turned 
about  and  passed  into  the  Club,  calling  for  bran- 
dy. Then,  as  he  stood  in  a  bright  light,  I  could 
see  that  he  looked  strangely.  His  face  was  very 
pale ;  his  moustache,  which  was  generally  fixed 
in  a  fierce  military  curl,  was  ragged;  his  dress 
was  disarranged,  his  linen  limp  and  soiled.  As 
he  poured  out  a  glass  of  brandy,  his  hand  trem- 
bled so  that  he  spilt  some  on  the  table.  Then 
he  drank  the  liquor  at  one  gulp,  and  taking  my 
arm  again,  hurriedly  bade  me  come  with  him. 

Feeling  the  question  ill-timed,  I  neverthe- 
less permitted  myself  to  ask  what  was  the 
matter. 

He  laughed  in  a  queer,  nervous  way. 

44  Never  you  mind,"  he  said  ;  44  it 's  nothing  — 
nothing.     You  '11  find  out  when  we  get  home." 

So  we  hurried  through  the  lamplit  streets, 
jostled  by  the  passing  crowd,  and  listening  to 
the  jingling  car-bells,  and  the  snatches  of  talk 
of  the  passers-by,  and  the  rumbling  clatter  of 
wheels  on  the  stone  pavements,  and  the  piercing 


84  RankelVs  Remains. 

shrieks  of  newsboys.  At  last  we  passed  into 
the  quieter  street  where  the  Wybornes  lived, 
and  so  up  the  freestone  steps  of  the  square  brick 
house  that  a  generation  ago  had  been  among  the 
finest  in  town. 

Howard  handed  me  a  key.  "  Open  the  door," 
he  said  ;  "  I  can't." 

I  turned  the  latch,  and  we  passed  in.  On  one 
side  of  the  hall  was  a  square  room,  of  which  the 
dark  polished  door  stood  open.  Over  the  mar- 
ble chimney-piece  hung  a  large  picture,  reli- 
giously believed  to  be  by  some  old  Italian  mas- 
ter, and  so  black  with  age  that,  for  all  we  could 
see,  it  might  have  been  a  Raphael.  Behind  a 
glass  screen  a  coal-fire  was  crackling  in  the 
grate.  Mr.  Wy borne  was  slowly  pacing  the 
room,  his  hands  behind  his  back  ;  and  on  one 
side  Anna  sat  at  her  piano,  with  Dick  Hastings 
beside  her.  One  of  the  candles  that  lighted  her 
music  had  burned  so  low  that  the  flame  flickered 
in  the  draught  that  came  from  the  opened  street- 
door  ;  the  other  light  came  from  a  long-necked 
moderateur  lamp  on  a  table  beside  the  red  plush 


TJie  Wybomes,  85 


arm-chair  where  Mr.  Wyborne  had  been  sitting 
before  he  began  his  restless  walk. 

Howard  clutched  my  arm  with  a  grip  that 
hurt  me. 

44  Come  in,"  he  whispered.  "  I  can't  walk 
alone  ;    I  don't  know  why." 

And  so  we  entered,  and  all  three  of  them 
looked  at  us  in  surprise.  Mr.  Wyborne  started 
towards  us ;  Anna  uttered  some  exclamation  at 
Howard's  strange  appearance  ;  Hastings  stood 
up,  looking  extremely  awkward. 

As  Mr.  Wyborne  came  toward  us,  Howard 
dropped  my  arm  and  held  out  both  his  hands. 

44  Father,"  he  said,  44it  's  all  over.  We  are 
ruined."  Then,  with  a  kind  of  sob,  he  stag- 
gered, and  would  have  fallen  forward  if  Hast- 
ings and  I  had  not  caught  him  in  our  arms. 
We  carried  him  to  a  sofa,  where  we  laid 
him,  with  a  fixed  look  on  his  pale  face,  quite 
insensible. 

It  was  better  thus,  I  believe,  for  they  thought 
of  him  and  not  of  themselves.  Hastings  van- 
ished  somehow,   I   know  not   whither;    and   I 


RankelVs  Remains. 


hurried  away  for  the  nearest  doctor,  and  waited 
to  hear  what  news  he  brought.  It  was  pa- 
ralysis, he  said.  Poor  Howard  never  walked 
again. 

X. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Hastings  and  I,  who 
by  mere  chance  were  by  when  the  trouble  came, 
and  so  seemed  nearer  to  Mr.  Wyborne  and 
Anna  than  others  whom  they  knew  as  well, 
found  our  offers  to  help  the  poor  gentleman 
in  his  confusion  by  no  means  unwelcome,  and 
came  to  know  what  the  trouble  really  was. 

In  brief  it  was  this  :  Howard,  seeing  his  spec- 
ulation prosper  in  the  hands  of  the  eminent 
financier  whom  he  had  called  Smith,  had  been 
seized  with  a  wish  to  win  more  than  his  share 
of  what  profits  came  to  the  syndicate.  In  this 
wish  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  have  been  en- 
couraged by  Smith  himself.  At  all  events, 
the  man  he  described  by  that  name  appeared 
to  have  lent  him  no  small  part  of  what  money 


The  Wybomes.  87 


he  used.  But  all  this  was  confused  and  secret ; 
and  as  poor  Howard's  mind  was  never  quite 
clear  afterwards,  we  could  learn  little  from  him. 
This,  however,  was  certain :  as  the  price  of  the 
stock  he  was  watching  went  slowly  up,  he  began 
to  buy  privately,  and  ended  by  buying  and 
agreeing  to  buy  so  much  that  at  length  he 
found  himself  at  the  end  of  his  rope  ;  and  just 
then,  greatly  to  his  dismay,  the  price  began  to 
fall.  Then,  on  the  day  I  have  just  written  of, 
he  had  gone  to  Smith  and  peremptorily  asked 
what  this  changed  aspect  of  affairs  meant. 
When  was  the  syndicate's  stock  to  be  forced 
up  to  the  highest  price  ?  And  then  he  had 
learned  that  it  was  not  to  be  forced  up  at  all. 
His  sly  friend,  it  appeared,  had  been  buying  so 
openly  that  all  the  world  might  know  that  he 
bought,  trusting  rightly  that  the  unwary  would 
follow  his  lead.  Then  quietly,  through  secret 
hands,  he  had  sold  more  than  he  was  buying, 
thus  leading  and  beguiling  all  who  followed 
him,  and  Howard  most  of  all.  And  now 
these  aspirants  for  wealth  were  left  to  do  what 


88  RanhelVs  Remains. 

they  might  with  the  property  and  the  con- 
tracts for  which  they  had  paid  a  dozen  times 
their  value. 

Then  when  Howard  learned  what  trick  had 
been  played  him,  he  came  home  as  I  have  told; 
and  the  man  Smith  who  had  led  him  into  this 
trouble  was  no  other  than  Rankell. 


XL 

When  Hastings  and  I  laid  before  Mr.  Wy- 
borne  the  papers  that  proved  these  facts,  he 
would  not  believe  what  the  writings  told  him. 

"Rankell!"  he  exclaimed.  "There's  some 
mistake.  He  *d  play  nobody  such  a  trick. 
Why,  I  've  known  him  for  years.  I  've  shaken 
hands  with  him  too  many  times  to  believe  it.'' 

So,  as  there  was  no  other  way  to  convince  the 
honest  gentleman,  it  was  arranged  that  Mr. 
Wy borne  and  I  should  ascertain  the  true  facts 
by  calling  on  Rankell  in  person.  To  Rankell's, 
then,  we  went,  where  we  were  kept  waiting 
some  little  time.     At  last  the  door  of  his  private 


The   Wybornes.  89 


office  opened  to  us.  I  had  never  seen  the  little 
den  before.  On  two  sides  were  white  plastered 
walls ;  on  the  other  two,  white  wooden  frames 
filled  with  ground  glass  ran  up  to  the  ceiling 
twenty  feet  high.  So  great  was  the  height,  in- 
deed, compared  with  the  other  dimensions,  that 
the  place  looked  like  a  whitened  pit,  with  a 
grinning  little  pale-haired  monster  lurking  at 
the  bottom  to  work  his  pleasure  on  whoever 
happened  to  fall  in. 

Rankell  bade  us  welcome  over  his  shoulder. 
As  we  entered,  he  was  scratching  away  at 
some  letter.  He  did  not  even  look  up  from 
his  rolling-topped  desk,  covered  with  papers. 
Sit  down,  he  said ;  he  would  be  at  liberty  in 
a  minute. 

There  was  something  in  his  dry  manner  that 
I  found  exquisitely  irritating.  This  scampish 
little  creature  must  know  perfectly  well  that  we 
came  to  confront  him  with  a  piece  of  rascality 
for  which  he  deserved  to  have  his  neck  wrung ; 
yet  here  he  coolly  treated  us  like  intruders. 
We  were  to  wait  his  pleasure,  it  appeared.     Be- 


90  RankelVs  Remains. 

yond  the  ground-glass  windows  we  could  hear 
the  bustle  of  the  office,  and  farther  off,  of  the 
great  store.  Nearer  by,  Rankell's  scratching 
pen  kept  up  a  staccato  duet  with  the  clicking 
ticker  that  was  vomiting  paper  tape  into  a  tall 
basket  at  his  side.  I  was  tempted  to  bid  him 
drop  his  work  and  listen.  But,  after  all,  the 
move  ought  to  come  from  Mr.  Wyborne,  who 
sat  silent.  He  was  restless,  though  ;  he  leaned 
forward  in  his  chair,  playing  with  his  stick, 
whose  ivory  head  was  grown  a  little  yellow  with 
age.  If  the  stick  had  been  mine,  I  thought,  I 
should  have  been  tempted  to  let  Rankell  feel  it. 
Possibly  it  was  some  such  idea  in  Rankell's 
own  mind  that  kept  him  so  busy.  This  im- 
portant letter  of  his  was  probably  a  subterfuge 
by  means  of  which  he  was  collecting  self- 
possession  for  the  exposure  that  was  at  hand. 

I  rather  expected  that  when  the  prolonged 
minute  he  kept  us  waiting  came  to  an  end  he 
would  still  be  in  confusion.  But  closely  as  I 
watched  him  I  could  see  no  outward  signs  of  it. 
He    scribbled    away  as  unconcernedly  as  if  he 


Trie  Wt/bornes.  91 


had  been  alone.  Finally  with  a  vicious  scratch 
of  the  pen  he  signed  his  name ;  then  he 
reached  out  his  hand  and  touched  a  bell.  In 
came  a  clerk  to  receive  a  handful  of  papers  and 
sundry  words  of  direction.  And  then  Mr. 
Rankell  was  ready  to  deal  with  us. 

I  watched  him  with  curiosity.  I  almost  pitied 
him,  thus  forcibly  brought  face  to  face  with  his 
knavery.  But  as  Rankell  wheeled  about  in  his 
pivot  chair  he  looked  by  no  means  abject.  He 
rocked  his  chair  back  on  its  curling  spring ; 
he  crossed  his  legs  ;  he  interlaced  his  yellow 
fingers  and  put  the  ends  of  his  thumbs  together. 
Then,  looking  Mr.  Wyborne  straight  in  the 
face,  with  every  wrinkle  showing  about  his 
pale  blue  eyes,  he  snapped  out  the  words, 
"Well,  sir?" 

"  I  've  come  to  tell  you  of  a  serious  misunder- 
standing," began  Mr.  Wyborne. 

"  Go  ahead,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  curtly.  His 
manner  had  quite  lost  the  civility  he  commonly 
showed  the  elderly  gentleman,  who  was  a  bit 
confused  at  the  change.    Nevertheless,  agreeable 


92  RankelVs  Remains. 

to  Rankell's  bidding,  he  went  ahead,  telling  at 
some  length  what  Hastings  and  I  conceived  the 
state  of  things  to  be.  To  him,  he  hastened  to 
protest,  this  view  was  quite  incredible. 

"  Well,  sir  ? "  repeated  Rankell,  when  Mr. 
Wy borne  paused. 

"  I  've  come  to  learn  the  real  facts,"  said  Mr. 
Wyborne. 

41  I  don't  see,"  said  Rankell,  "  but  what  your 
friend  here  has  got  'em  straight." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  Mr.  Wyborne, 
with  a  blank  look  that  anywhere  else  would 
have  been  comical,  "  that  you  played  my  boy 
this  trick?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  emphatically. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne,  bringing 
down  his  stick  with  emphasis.  And  he  looked 
at  me  as  if  to  say  that  I  might  take  what  com- 
fort was  to  be  had  in  the  reflection  that  I  had 
found  a  mare's  nest. 

"  I  play  nobody  tricks,"  asserted  Rankell. 

"That's  just  what  I  said,  sir,"  put  in  Mr. 
Wyborne. 


The  Wyborne*.  93 


44  But  if  a  man  tries  to  play  tricks  on  me," 
went  on  Rankell,  with  a  grin,  44  lie  is  apt  to  get 
bitten,  sir." 

44  That 's  proper  enough,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne. 
44  A  man  must  defend  himself." 

44  Well,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  dryly,  44  that 's 
how  your  son  Howard  got  bitten." 

44  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Wyborne,  jumping  up. 

44  Just  that,"  said  Rankell,  coolly  looking  him 
straight  in  the  face.  44  There  's  no  use  in  getting 
excited,  Mr.  Wyborne.     The  milk  's  spilt." 

44  Do  you  mean  to  intimate,"  began  Mr. 
W}'borne,  44  that  Howard — " 

44  Look  here,  sir,  was  n't  he  a  sort  of  partner 
with  me  in  that  little  transaction  ?  " 

44  Apparently,  something  of  the  kind  ;  but —  " 

4i  Well,  did  n't  he  try  to  get  more  than  his 
share  of  the  profits  ?  " 

u  It  looks  so,  sir  ;    but  —  " 

44  Well,  he  did  n't  get  it.  Folks  generally 
don't  when  they  tvj  that  game  on  me.  That 's 
the  whole  story,  sir." 


94  RankelVs  Remains. 

Mr.  Wyborne  did  not  answer  a  word.  Lean- 
ing on  his  stick,  he  grew  so  deathly  pale  that  I 
thought  him  faint.  I  turned  to  the  door,  calling 
for  water,  but  he  stopped  me. 

"  Not  a  drop  here,"  he  said  witli  an  emphasis 
that  showed  him  able  to  do  without  it ;  but  he 
took  my  arm. 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  went  on  Rankell  as  coolly 
as  ever,  "  we  might  as  well  have  the  whole  thing 
out.     You  're  mixed  up  in  this,  I  suppose." 

Mr.  Wyborne,  who  was  moving  away,  turned 
back,  looking  Rankell  straight  in  the  eye  ;  and 
as  the  little  creature  blinked  impudently  back, 
there  came  over  his  wrinkles  the  sign  of  a 
flush. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Wy- 
borne. There  was  something  in  his  tone  that 
marked  the  difference  between  them.  I  had 
never,  I  thought,  so  felt  his  dignity. 

"I  don't  understand  you,  sir,"  he  repeated. 
"  I  knew  no  details  of  what  Howard  was  doing  ; 
but  I  knew  what  I  know  still,  sir,  that  I  brought 
him  up  to  be  a  gentleman." 


The  Wybornes.  95 


"No  doubt,"  said  Rankell.  "And  I  s'pose 
you  've  lent  him  money  on  that." 

"  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne.  "  What  is  mine 
is  his." 

"  Well,  he  will  have  to  fail,  and  so  will  yon, 
for  all  I  see." 

"  Our  debts  shall  be  paid,  sir,  whatever 
happens." 

"All  right,  sir;  though  I  advise  you  to 
take  full  advantage  of  the  law ;  it  's  common 
sense.  But  that  ain't  what  I  had  in  mind. 
I  've  got  to  protect  myself,  you  see ;  so  I 
shall  have  to  have  that  mortgage  on  your 
place  recorded." 

"I  might  have  expected  it,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Wyborne.  "  There  is  nothing  but  your  word  to 
prevent  you." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  quickly,  "  don't 
I  take  that  back  first?" 

Mr.  Wyborne  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode 
out  of  the  office  thumping  the  wooden  floor 
with  his  stick.  Anxious  lest  some  serious 
reaction   should  overtake  my  poor  old  friend,  I 


RankelVs  Remains. 


hastened  after  him.  And  so  we  left  Rankell 
sitting  with  crossed  legs  and  interlaced  fingers. 

Once  in  the  street  Mr.  Wyboine  took  my 
arm,  and  without  speaking  tramped  hastily 
along,  drawing  deep  breaths  ;  but  his  pace  soon 
slackened,  and  he  leaned  on  me  heavily. 

"  'Gad,  sir,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  came  near  los- 
ing my  temper  before  that  scoundrel.  I  've  a 
devilish  bad  one  ;  but  I  would  n't  let  it  get 
the  better  of  me  there.  I  must  rest  some- 
where." 

We  were  passing  a  large  hotel.  Spruce  fel- 
lows stood  smoking  on  the  untidy  marble  porch, 
while  within  the  office  a  bustling  crowd  of 
porters  and  buttoned  bo}-s  and  travellers  and 
what  not  were  scurrying  about  the  tessellated 
pavement;  but  as  no  other  resting-place  was 
at  hand,  I  led  him  in.  There  for  a  while  he 
sat  listlessly  in  a  stained  red  leather  arm-chair 
that  was  screwed  to  the  wall  near  one  of  the 
plate-glass  windows.  After  a  little  rest  he 
asked  me  kindly  to  bring  him  water.  "  Would 
not  wine  do  better  ?  "  I  asked.     From  our  seats 


The  Wybornes.  97 


we  could  see  a  part  of  the  neighboring  bar- 
room, whence  came  noisy  talk  and  the  tinkle 
of  glasses.  But  he  shook  his  head ;  so,  not 
wishing  to  oppose  him,  I  brought  water  in 
a  plated  goblet  that  stood  near  at  hand. 
From  this,  after  curiously  looking  at  its 
cheap  ornamentation,  he  took  a  sip  or  two. 
"Iced  water,"  he  remarked,  "is  dangerous  to 
digestion."  And  thus  refreshed,  he  walked 
homeward. 

On  the  way  he  talked,  with  a  calmness  that 
made  me  doubt  whether  he  fully  realized  what 
he  said,  about  the  duty  that  lay  before  him. 
All  his  property  must  go  without  delay  ;  and 
he  told  me  —  what  I  knew  before  —  how  the 
man  Cutting  had  lately  come  with  some  offer 
for  the  old  place  that  he  had  expected  always 
to  keep.  As  we  parted  at  his  door  he  turned 
to  me  with  words  of  thanks  for  what  he  called 
my  kindness  ;  and  then,  holding  my  hand,  and 
speaking  in  a  doubtful  tone,  he  said  that  he 
should  venture  to  trouble  me  just  a  little  more. 
He  was  tired  out ;  he  must  rest.    Should  I  mind 

7 


98  RanhelVs  Remains. 

calling  on  Cutting  with  word  that  his  offer 
might  now  be   considered? 

To  Cutting  then  I  went.  I  found  him  in  a 
huge  beehive  of  a  building,  with  half  a  dozen 
elevators  to  carry  whoever  would  go  to  the 
upper  cells.  He  received  me  curtly,  and  did 
not  mend  his  manners  when  he  heard  my  busi- 
ness. He  was  playing  with  a  pocket-knife, 
whose  handle  of  crinkled  brown  bone  pro- 
truded  from    his    fat   knuckle. 

"  The  offer  's  not  open,"  he  grunted,  as  he 
scraped  his  pudgy  finger-nails.  "  It  looks  now 
as  if  the  gentleman  that  talked  to  me  could  get 
the  thing  cheaper.  The  moral  of  that  is  that 
when  you  get  a  chance  you  nab  it,  if  you  've 
got  any  sense." 

With  such  satisfaction  as  this  maxim  might 
afford  I  turned  to  go.  Cutting,  still  staring 
at  his  finger-nails,  whose  appearance  seemed  to 
afford  him  much  satisfaction,  called  after  me  : 
"  See  here,  sir.  I  don't  know  but  what  you 
might  as  well  tell  Wyborne  who  the  gentle- 
man was.     Tt  was   Mr.  Rankell." 


The  Wybornes.  99 


XII. 

How  the  Wyborne  property  was  sold,  root 
and  branch,  I  need  not  tell  in  detail.  Not  a 
bit  was  reserved.  Mr.  Wyborne  held  that  his 
honor  was  pledged,  and  that  no  technicalities 
should  be  permitted  to  protect  anything  that 
might  help  redeem  what  obligations  Howard 
or  he  had  incurred.  Where  the  town  house 
went,  or  the  furniture,  or  the  paintings,  or  the 
wine  (that  half  the  clubs  in  the  country  bid 
for),  does  not  concern  us.  But  sure  enough, 
when  the  old  country  place,  that  was  most 
precious  of  all,  came  under  the  hammer,  it  was 
Rankell  that  began  the  bidding  ;  and  as  nobody 
cared  to  bid  against  him,  he  had  it  for  what  he 
pleased. 

Once  in  possession,  he  made  clear  why  he 
wanted  it.  The  place,  as  it  had  stood,  with  a 
great  house  and  grounds  and  farms,  much  in 
the  English  style,  was,  as  Howard  had  affirmed, 
fit  only  for  a  gentleman.     But  in  no  great  time 


100  llankelVs  Remains. 

Rankell  had  changed  all  that,  and  made  the 
place  what,  if  it  had  ever  been,  it  had  not  been 
for  years,  —  a  paying  piece  of  property.  An 
army  of  laborers  were  set  to  work.  Farms  and 
lawns  and  gardens  disappeared  ;  the  old  trees 
that  had  been  Mr.  Wyborne's  pride  and  the 
new  ones  that  he  had  expected  to  be  the  pride 
of  his  descendants,  were  chopped  alike  into  fire- 
wood ;  and  a  whole  town  of  spruce  little  houses, 
each  with  a  breathing-space  about  it,  sprung 
into  existence  along  the  broad  streets  with  sen- 
timental names,  which  Rankell's  workmen  laid 
out  in  the  rectangular  fashion  dear  to  the 
American  heart.  A  better  place  of  residence 
for  well-to-do  shopkeepers  and  the  like,  whom 
the  railway  took  back  and  forth  from  town  in 
less  than  an  hour,  could  not  be  imagined.  To 
cap  the  climax,  Rankell  undertook  personally 
to  manage  all  the  business  of  the  place ;  so, 
thanks  to  his  capital  and  his  management,  the 
cost  of  living  was  lower  there  than  anywhere 
else.  Deserving  people  of  the  middle  class 
flocked  to  the  town  in  any  number  you  please. 


The  Wybornes.  101 


Rankellville,  as  it  was  called,  soon  grew  fa- 
mous in  its  way.  Rankell's  proceedings  there 
impressed  the  public  as  a  nobly  philanthropic 
use  of  fortune  ;  he  won  untold  praise,  too,  by 
rigorously  forbidding  the  sale  of  intoxicating 
drink  within  the  limits  of  the  township.  Trav- 
ellers from  abroad  went  to  Rankellville  and 
discussed  its  merits  in  newspapers  and  reviews ; 
and  people  generally  held  that  a  more  admir- 
able and  successful  experiment  had  not  been 
tried  for  years.  So,  as  the  small  man  walked 
down  town,  and  sat  of  a  Sunday  in  St.  Peter's, 
he  was  looked  at  with  fresh  respect.  He  was  not 
only  the  richest  man  in  the  city,  but  perhaps 
the  most  conspicuous  benefactor  of  his  kind. 

There  was  one  feature  of  the  town,  however, 
which  nobody  could  understand.  In  the  middle 
of  one  of  the  square  blocks  the  old  Wyborne 
house  was  left  untouched ;  and  the  land  about 
it,  though  fenced  in,  was  not  at  all  improved. 
So  as  Rankellville  grew  and  prospered,  there 
remained  in  the  midst  of  its  extremely  modern 
life  this  curious  spectacle  of  a  square  country 


102  RankelVs  Remains. 

house,  with  closed  blinds  and  constantly  more 
ding}*-  paint.  So  it  stood  for  a  good  while, 
with  the  few  stray  trees  about  it  which  the 
plan  of  the  town  permitted  to  survive ;  and 
what  had  once  been  the  garden  grew  to  be 
a  tangled  mass  of  weeds.  At  last  some  boys, 
who  had  made  an  entrance  to  the  cellar,  and 
taken  to  holding  high  festival  in  the  empty 
rooms,  managed  somehow  to  drop  a  lighted 
match  in  an  inaccessible  corner.  In  half  an 
hour  the  house  was  in  ashes  and  the  trees  had 
their  death-scars. 

There  was  painful  speculation  in  Rankellville 
as  to  what  Mr.  Rankell  would  say.  Everybody 
was  surprised,  however,  when  he  simply  re- 
marked that  the  accident  had  saved  him  the 
trouble  of  pulling  the  old  thing  down  ;  and  he 
went  on  to  leave  the  vacant  block  as  uncared- 
for  as  ever.  So  as  Rankellville  grew  and  pros- 
pered, all  that  was  left  to  remind  you  of  what 
had  once  been  in  its  place  was  the  blackened 
cellar  full  of  weeds  and  cinders,  that  marked  the 
spot  where  the  old  Wyborne  house  had  stood. 


The  Wyhornes.  103 


XIII. 

And  now  that  I  have  told  something  of  how 
the  Wybornes  lived,  and  of  how  Rankell  saw 
and  coveted  what  they  had,  and  so  wove  his 
web  about  them  until  he  had  it  for  himself,  and 
of  what  use  he  made  of  it  when  it  was  his,  I  am 
tempted  to  think  that,  imperfectly  as  my  work 
is  done,  the  time  is  come  to  leave  these  matters. 
But  perhaps,  after  all,  this  is  where  I  may  best 
set  down  what  more  I  have  to  say  concerning 
Mr.  Wyborne  and  his  children. 

Their  case,  of  course,  gave  rise  to  much  talk 
and  much  sympathy.  To  be  sure,  people  said, 
it  was  their  own  fault ;  Mr.  Wyborne's  im- 
prudence and  Howard's  folly  had  been  un- 
paralleled. And  this  generalization  was  so 
comprehensive,  and  withal  so  easy  to  repeat, 
that  it  soon  came  to  be  accepted  as  an  adequate 
version  of  what  had  happened.  But,  after  all 
was  said,  the  fact  remained  that  their  impru- 
dence and  folly  had  no  shade  of  dishonor ;  and 


104  RankelVs  Remains. 

then  everybody  had  liked  the  Wybornes,  and 
had  freely  taken  what  they  gave  in  the  days  of 
their  prosperity.  So  for  a  while  there  was  talk 
of  helping  them,  —  of  buying  a  house  somewhere, 
and  subscribing  enough  to  keep  them  in  com- 
fort. "When  this  came  to  Mr.  Wyborne's  ears, 
however,  he  quite  lost  his  temper,  declaring  that 
no  Wyborne  had  been  a  beggar  yet,  and  that 
none  should  be  in  his  time.  They  were  not 
penniless,  he  went  on  to  state ;  Anna  had  a 
little  something  from  her  mother.  To  be  sure, 
he  was  grieved  to  say,  he  had  managed  her 
property  ill ;  but  still  there  was  enough,  thank 
God,  to  support  them  until  he  found  some- 
thing to  do.  So  pray  let  him  hear  no  more 
of  help. 

This  disheartening  reception  of  proffered  kind- 
ness made  the  first  of  the  breaches  that  began 
to  grow  between  the  Wybornes  and  their  old 
friends.  The  benevolent  ladies  who  had  taken 
the  matter  of  helping  them  in  hand  put  up  their 
purses  in  a  dudgeon.  To  use  no  stronger  term, 
Mr.  Wyborne's  conduct  was  very  extraordinary, 


The  Wybornes.  105 


and  one  who  will  not  take  a  friendly  hand  must 
not  expect  a  friendly  smile.  Mrs.  Henderson, 
too,  who  at  first  was  all  kindness,  and  offered 
her  house  to  them  as  long  as  they  would  stay  in 
it,  was  much  put  out  at  the  rebuff  she  had.  To 
be  sure,  she  had  thanks  and  to  spare  ;  but  they 
would  rather  shift  for  themselves.  At  least, 
she  hoped,  they  would  let  her  offer  a  home  to 
Anna.  Well,  that  was  as  Anna  pleased  ;  she 
was  free  to  choose  for  herself.  And  Anna  chose 
to  stay  with  her  father  and  Howard. 

"  In  short,"  said  Mrs.  Henderson  to  whoever 
would  listen,  "  their  behavior  is  quite  uncon- 
scionable. Of  course  their  case  is  hard,  and  I 
am  sure  they  have  all  our  sympathy;  and  if 
they  come  to  actual  want,  —  as  there 's  no 
earthly  reason  to  suppose  they  won't,  —  we 
shall  do  our  duty  by  them.  But  it  will  be  a 
thankless  task.  The  truth  is,  my  dear,  it  takes 
character  to  bear  misfortune  ;  and  we  all  know 
the  Wybornes." 

So  the  Wybornes  displayed  their  signal 
want  of  character  by  taking  quarters  in  an  out- 


106  RankelVs  Remains. 

of- the- way  boarding-house,  where  they  found 
reasonable  comfort  within  the  means  that  what 
was  left  of  Anna's  property  afforded.  There 
was  little  enough  left,  though.  Mr.  Wyborne 
had  undertaken  the  care  of  his  daughter's  estate, 
and  though  he  had  cared  for  it  as  well  as  if  it 
had  been  his  own,  he  had  cared  no  better,  for 
the  excellent  reason  that  he  did  not  know  how. 
Year  by  year,  then,  it  had  shrunk  along  with  his. 
Now  at  last  he  wTas  more  than  willing  to  put 
what  remained  into  skilful  hands.  On  this  they 
lived,  obscurely  but  not  unhappily;  and  How- 
ard, who  was  hopelessly  stricken,  had  every 
care  that  his  father's  and  his  sister's  self-denial 
could  afford  him. 


XIV. 

Thus  cut  off  from  their  old  surroundings,  the 
Wybornes  liked  to  see  me,  whom  accident  had 
kept  near  them  throughout  their  troubles.  I 
often  went  to  their  lodgings,  then,  of  an  even- 
ing, sure  of  a  welcome   as  hearty   as   of  old. 


The  Wybornes.  10' 


This  welcome,  indeed,  went  far  to  repay  what 
little  trouble  the  visits  cost  me;  but  I  am  bound 
to  confess  that  the  cigars  Mr.  Wyborne  gave 
me  in  these  days  were  enough  to  put  my  friend- 
ship to  a  test.  The  three  had  a  dingy  little 
parlor,  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  with  a  bronzed 
chandelier,  and  furniture  that  was  not  comfort- 
able to  sit  on.  Howard  always  had  the  lounge. 
He  would  lie  there  stupidly,  with  fat,  white 
face  and  ragged  beard,  now  and  then  complain- 
ing a  little  ;  but  as  he  spoke  with  difficulty, 
he  was  apt  to  lie  pretty  still,  and  often  fell 
asleep. 

"  I  sometimes  think  the  boy  is  in  luck,"  Mr. 
Wyborne  would  say.  "  Half  the  time  he  does  n't 
seem  to  realize  what  has  happened.  The  other 
day  he  asked  when  we  meant  to  go  out  of  town. 
I  didn't  correct  him.  There  was  no  use  in 
making  him  uncomfortable.  Of  course  he 
did  n't  mean  to  bring  us  to  this." 

At  other  times  he  talked  more  cheerfully. 

"You  have  no  idea,  until  you  try  it,"  he 
would  say,  "  what  a  tolerable  life  people  live  in 


108  RankeWs  Remains. 

this  kind  of  place.  I  had  a  notion  it  would  be 
frightfully  dull,  and  it 's  not  a  bit.  The  table- 
talk  is  uncommonly  good.  There  is  a  man  here 
who  used  to  be  a  consul  in  Japan  or  somewhere, 
—  very  widely  informed,  tells  a  capital  stor}< . 
And  there  is  a  queer  old  woman  —  not  at  all 
the  kind  you  meet  in  society  —  who  has  seen  no 
end  of  life  and  says  the  drollest  things.  Anna, 
do  you  know  it  occurs  to  me  that  Mrs.  Finch 
may  have  been  on  the  stage.  She  reminds  me 
of  a  Miss  Something-or-other  —  I  forget  the 
name  —  whom  your  mother  thought  the  best 
Lady  Teazle  she  ever  saw." 

Meantime  he  would  stoutly  declare  that  he 
should  soon  find  something  to  do,  and  so  help 
matters  along.  But  this  something  to  do  never 
turned  up ;  and  indeed  I  suspect  he  rarely  went 
farther  in  search  of  it  than  the  side  of  his 
marble-topped  table,  over  which  Anna  had 
spread  a  pretty  cloth.  Here  he  would  sit,  puff- 
ing his  cigar,  or  reading  a  stray  book ;  and 
reflecting,  so  far  as  you  could  judge  from  his 
occasional   remarks,    that   it  was  high  time   to 


The  Wybornes.  109 


bestir  himself,  and  that  he  was  quite  ready  to 
do  so.  The  marvel  was,  as  time  went  on,  that 
he  had  managed  to  keep  off  the  catastrophe  as 
long  as  he  had. 

It  was  on  Anna,  then,  that  more  and  more 
the  charge  of  affairs  fell,  and  she  bore  it  in 
a  way  that  surprised  me ;  for  up  to  this  time 
she  had  never  known  what  it  was  to  want 
anything,  or  even  to  be  contradicted.  I  re- 
member a  speech  of  Mr.  Wyborne's  when  she 
was  growing  up,  that  to  my  mind  augured  ill 
for  her  when  she  should  be  grown. 

"It's  a  bad  plan,  I  know,"  he  said,  "to  let 
a  child  do  as  it  pleases.  But  if  it  does  n't 
please  to  do  what  it  should  n't,  you  can't  inter- 
fere without  making  it  bad.  If  Anna  was  a 
boy,  I  believe  I  should  rather  like  her  to  get 
drunk.  A  man  without  a  touch  of  wild  oats 
is  n't  exactly  human,  though  you  can't  feel 
quite  that  way  about  a  girl.  Or  if  she  were 
devote,  —  a  female  prig,  you  know,  —  there 
would  be  something  to  do.  But  she  is  nothing 
of  the  kind.     She   likes  a  good   time  —  riding 


110  RankelVs  Remains. 

and  dancing  and  small-talk  —  with  the  best  of 
them.  Only  somehow  she  manages  to  stop  of 
her  own  accord  just  where  she  ought.  So  what 
the  devil  can  I  do  ?" 

Without  the  intimacy  of  paternity  it  was  im- 
possible as  well  as  unmannerly  to  contradict 
him.  I  doubt,  however,  whether  anybody  shared 
his  view  of  the  pretty  young  woman.  To  com- 
mon eyes  she  seemed  a  fly-away  little  body,  up 
to  her  ears  in  the  rush  of  society,  always  eager 
for  the  last  new  gayety,  dressed  at  heaven  knows 
what  expense,  and  systematically  spoilt  from 
the  day  she  was  born.  When  the  trouble  came, 
then,  I  for  one  looked  for  grumbling  from  Anna. 
In  all  likelihood,  I  thought,  the  hardest  change 
for  her  father  to  bear  would  be  the  change  in 
her.  Yet,  after  the  first  shock  was  over,  and 
she  had  reluctantly  become  convinced  that  Ran- 
kell  was  in  no  way  amenable  to  the  criminal  law, 
3'ou  would  hardly  have  known  from  her  bearing 
that  there  was  any  change  at  all.  There  was 
but  one  marked  difference  in  her :  from  having 
worn  such  gay  clothes  as  I  believe  she  would 


The  Wybornes.  Ill 


never  have  had  if  her  mother  had  survived  to 
keep  an  eye  on  her,  she  took  to  wearing  gowns 
so  simple  that  you  could  never  tell  whether  it 
was  one  or  another. 

Often  smiling,  now  and  then  singing  a 
snatch  of  some  song  as  she  sat  and  sewed,  she 
seemed  as  happy  and  as  thoughtless  as  ever. 
But  in  little  ways  I  could  see  that  there  was 
no  real  thoughtlessness  about  her;  she  took 
care  that  her  father  should  never  sit  long 
brooding,  and  to  Howard  she  was  the  best 
of  nurses.  I  have  seen  her  arrange  his  pil- 
lows for  the  hundredth  time  when  he  com- 
plained that  he  could  not  lie  comfortably.  And 
every  day  she  would  read  to  him,  chiefly  from 
the  newspapers,  —  for  when  he  felt  strong 
enough  to  think  of  anything  but  himself,  he 
was  constantly  more  anxious  to  know  what 
was  going  on  in  the  world.  Particularly  he 
liked  to  follow  the  ups  and  downs  of  stocks, 
uttering  with  his  heavy  tongue  sage  remarks 
as  to  what  great  things  he  would  have  done 
if  his  confounded  luck  had  not  laid  him  up. 


112  RankelVs  Remains. 

And  Anna  would  read  and  listen  to  him  as 
if  she  cared  about  such  things  herself.  The 
only  change  I  saw  in  her  was,  that  she  grew 
thin,  and  the  veins  swelled  in  her  white  hands, 
and  her  forefinger  grew  rough  with  the  sewing 
she  insisted  on  doing  for  herself. 

At  last,  however,  another  change  came.  She 
began  to  protest,  as  I  had  expected  at  first, 
that  this  hum-drum  life  Avas  depressingly  dull. 
Before  long,  though,  I  found  out  that  this  was 
a  subterfuge.  She  had  always  been  fond  of 
music,  and  had  been  well  taught ;  now,  for 
mere  distraction  she  said,  she  chose  to  put  her 
accomplishment  to  use.  She  tried  singing  once 
at  a  private  concert  where  Mrs.  Henderson  con- 
sented to  find  her  a  place.  But  as  she  chose 
some  simple  German  songs,  and  as  a  dashing 
37oung  woman  followed  her  with  a  rollicking 
English  one,  stamped  with  the  approval  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  she  had  little  success.  In  the 
end,  then,  she  preferred  taking  pupils,  who  soon 
occupied  much  of  her  time.  And  thus,  while 
Mr.    Wy borne,    who   grew   rusty    in    his    wits. 


The  Wybomes.  113 


seemed  not  to  realize  what  she  was  about,  she 
eked  out  what  scanty  living  her  little  property 
brought  them. 

XV. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Tom  Henderson 
came  to  the  Club  one  night  with  a  story  that 
he  for  one  thought  highly  comical.  Strolling 
somewhere  after  dark,  he  had  been  attracted 
by  a  pretty  little  figure  making  its  way  through 
a  crowded  street  without  a  protector.  The 
chivalrous  courtesy  that  always  marked  Tom's 
relations  with  the  other  sex  impelled  him  at 
once  to  make  chase,  with  a  view,  in  case  his 
attentions  should  not  be  repulsed,  to  supplying, 
at  least  for  the  moment,  this  lack  so  deplorable 
from  the  point  of  view  of  etiquette. 

"So  off  I  went  after  her,"  he  said,  u  and  be- 
fore long  she  twigged  and  did  n't  seem  to  like 
it.  So  we  had  a  regular  race,  till  at  last  I  caught 
up  with  her  under  a  lamp-post.  And,  by  Jove! 
it    was    Anna    Wy borne !     Well,    I    had   sense 

8 


114  RankelVs  Remains. 

enough  to  pretend  I  'd  known  her  all  along, 
and  she  made  believe  she  believed  me.  T  saw 
her  home.  She  's  devilish  pretty,  I  tell  you,  — 
prettier  than  she  ever  was  before." 

Among  the  listeners  to  this  anecdote  was 
Dick  Hastings,  whom  I  observed,  when  the 
group  separated,  to  call  Henderson  aside.  In 
a  neighboring  corner  they  engaged  in  pretty 
serious  talk ;  but  Henderson,  who,  to  do  him 
justice,  was  the  most  good-tempered  of  men, 
seemed  by  no  means  as  much  in  earnest  as 
Hastings. 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said  in  the  end, 
rather  petulantly,  "  I  admit  it,  don't  I  ?  Per- 
haps I  shouldn't  have  mentioned  the  thing." 

"  There  's  no  i  perhaps  '  about  it,"  said  Hast- 
ings, whose  voice  rose  too.  Nobody  else  was 
left  in  the  room. 

"  Oh,  — —  it !  "  said  Tom,  angrily. 

"  And  I  beg,"  went  on  Hastings,  "  not  only 
that  you  will  mention  it  no  more,  but  that  you 
won't  go  near  her."  And  with  that  he  left 
him. 


Tlie  Wybornes.  115 


This  proceeding  annoyed  me.  Hastings 
was  right,  to  be  sure,  as  usual ;  Tom  had 
acted  abominably.  But  what  business  was  that 
of  Hastings's?  In  the  last  days  of  the  Wy- 
bornes' fortune,  as  I  have  told,  Hastings  had 
devoted  himself  to  Anna  conspicuously  enough 
to  make  people  whisper  that  he  was  trying  com- 
fortably to  feather  his  still  bare  nest.  Then, 
when  the  crash  came,  he  had  behaved  very 
decently,  joining  with  one  or  two  more  of  us 
in  doing  what  we  could  to  help  Mr.  Wyborne 
through  his  perplexities.  And  then,  when  he 
had  done  just  enough  to  prevent  people  from 
remarking  any  discreditable  change  in  his  con- 
duct, he  had  suddenly  stopped  going  near  the 
unlucky  family.  I  never  saw  him  at  their  lodg- 
ings ;  and  from  questions  that  Mr.  Wyborne  had 
asked  me,  I  was  sure  that  they  knew  as  little 
of  Hastings  as  if  he  had  never  been  a  close 
friend.  At  the  very  moment  when,  according 
to  my  notions,  he  should  have  come  forward  to 
offer  Anna  what  comfort  his  devotion  could  give 
her,  he  had  civilly  bowed  and  walked  away. 


116  RankelVs  Remains. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  conduct  to  lay- 
hold  of;  so  far  as  I  knew,  he  had  been  fortu- 
nate enough  not  to  have  committed  himself. 
But  surely  his  behavior  gave  him  of  all  men 
no  right  to  play  champion  to  the  woman  he 
had  coolly  left  without  defence.  I  never  liked 
the  self-centred  fellow,  and  liked  him  the 
less  for  this  parade  of  uncompromising  virtue. 
Still,  the  matter  was  no  affair  of  mine.  If  he 
chose  to  quarrel  with  Henderson,  he  was  at 
liberty  to  do  so. 

XVI. 

A  little  after  this  I  found  the  Wybornes 
one  night  in  a  state  of  high  excitement.  Quite 
unannounced,  a  document  had  come  to  Howard, 
setting  forth  how,  in  recognition  of  his  distin- 
guished services  in  the  army,  his  grateful  Gov- 
ernment had  granted  him  a  pension  for  life. 
This,  I  suspect,  was  a  godsend  to  the  Wybornes. 
For  Howard's  illness  grew  costly;  and  Mr. 
Wyborne  still  found  "something  to  do"  easier 


The  Wybornes.  117 


to  talk  about  than  to  find ;  and  what  Anna 
earned,  even  with  what  her  little  property 
brought  them,  was  no  great  matter.  But 
some  evil  impulse  had  set  Mr.  Wyborne  to 
inquiring  how  the  Government  had  ever  come 
to  think  about  them ;  and  when  I  happened 
in  upon  them  they  had  just  found  out  that 
the  pension  was  due  to  the  kind  offices  of 
Mr.  Rankell,  who  had  recommended  it  to  a 
statesman  of  his  acquaintance. 

This  unlooked-for  benevolence  caused  the 
first  quarrel  I  ever  knew  them  to  have.  For 
Anna  was  for  taking  the  money ;  it  was  no 
gift,  she  said,  but  honestly  won  by  years  of 
fighting,  and  what  road  it  came  by  was  no 
concern  of  theirs.  But  Howard  had  raised 
himself  on  one  elbow,  swearing  in  his  thick 
speech  that  he  would  rather  starve  than  touch 
a  cent  that  came  from  Rankell;  and  Mr. 
Wyborne  had  taken  his  side. 

My  coming  did  not  disturb  them;  they 
were  beginning  to  grow  careless.  Already 
the  letter  was   sealed   in   which  Howard   had 


118  RankelVs  Remains. 

managed,  with  no  small  pains,  to  scrawl  his 
refusal  of  the  proffered  gift.  And  Anna  was 
begging  him  not  to  send  it ;  for  they  were 
coming  to  need  all  they  could  honorably  get. 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Mr.  Wyborne,  who 
was  tramping  up  and  down  the  little  room. 
"  If  you  think  we  can  honorably  take  what 
that  scampish  fellow  pleases  to  fling  us,  you 
forget  who  brought  us  to  this,  and  you  for- 
get —  God  forgive  you  —  the  old  place  and 
what  has  happened  to  it.  Thank  God,  we're 
not  paupers  yet.  And  if  we  were,  we  could 
hold  our  heads  up." 

"But,  papa,"  sighed  poor  Anna,  "we 
need  it." 

"  Anna,  we  need  nothing,  I  tell  you,"  retorted 
Mr.  Wyborne.  "We  need  nothing  so  long  as 
we  keep  our  honor.  If  you  were  n't  a  woman 
you  would  understand  me." 

In  the  old  times  Mr.  Wyborne  had  been  fond 
of  declaring  that  no  woman  ever  knew  what 
honor  means. 

Poor  Anna's  eyes  were  swollen  with  tears  ; 


The  Wybornes.  119 


and  even  now  that  I  was  by  she  could  hardly 
keep  back  her  sobs.  She  had  had,  she  began  to 
say,  as  much  as  she  could  bear ;  heaven  knew 
she  had  done  her  best. 

And  so  it  went  on.  As  soon  as  might  be,  I 
left  them,  still  angry.  And  thus,  for  once,  a 
pension  was  refused. 

XVII. 

It  was  a  little  later  that  Hastings,  who  had 
grown  very  brief  in  his  intercourse  with  me, 
surprised  me  one  day  by  abruptly  asking  if  I 
could  tell  him  how  matters  were  going  with  the 
Wybornes.  I  made  no  scruple  to  tell  him  that 
they  were  going  very  ill,  and  to  give  some  ac- 
count of  this  last  scene,  so  new  in  their  life, 
that  bade  fair  to  be  no  strange  one  in  future. 

44  H'm,"  said  Hastings,  with  irritating  cool- 
ness.    44  It 's  too  bad." 


120  RarikelVs  Remains. 


XVIII. 

And  now  conies  the  end  of  this  little  drama. 
One  night,  soon  after  this,  I  was  alone  in  my 
room,  thinking  of  bed,  when  there  came  a  rap 
at  my  door,  and  in  walked  Hastings.  There 
was  a  frankly  joyous  look  in  his  face  that  I  had 
never  seen  there  before. 

"  It 's  very  late,"  he  said.  "  But  I  know  you 
will  like  to  hear  what  I  have  to  tell  you.  I 
am  going  to  be  married  to  Anna  Wyborne." 

With  that,  he  held  out  both  hands ;  and  I 
took  them  and  wrung  them,  though  in  my  sur- 
prise I  hardly  realized  what  he  said.  And 
after  that  we  sat  together,  late  into  the  night, 
and  he  told  me  all  his  story ;  for  I  had  been 
the  best  friend  of  her  people,  and  for  his  part  he 
had  no  near  friends  of  his  own.  And  as  he 
talked  on,  I  began  to  understand  how  all  the 
time  I  had  read  him  wrong. 

For  he  told  how,  from  that  first  visit  to  the 
old  house,  years  ago,  he  had  felt,  when  he  saw 


The  Wybornes.  121 


the  merry  little  girl  who  had  tried  to  treat  him 
kindly  and  was  wounded  for  her  pains,  that  he 
should  never  love  any  one  but  her.  Yet  when 
he  thought  of  his  clumsy  self,  and  of  the  pov- 
erty of  his  people,  he  had  known  how  little 
he  was  worthy  of  such  a  prize  ;  and  it  was 
without  hope  that  he  had  let  himself  dream  of 
her  through  his  hard-working  college  life,  and 
after  that  in  the  army.  Then  one  night  he  had 
been  seized  with  a  belief  that  in  a  battle  that 
was  coming  he  should  surely  fall.  Of  this  he 
had  felt  so  certain  that,  gathering  courage,  he 
had  gone  to  Lawrence  Wyborne,  whose  quarters 
were  near  by,  and  had  told  Lawrence  all  his 
story.  He  could  not  die,  he  felt,  without  one 
word  of  farewell  to  her  who  alone  made  the 
world  hard  for  him  to  leave.  Lawrence  had 
smiled  at  his  fears,  speaking  kindly  of  hopes 
that  Hastings's  love  might  not  go  unrewarded. 
But  he  had  promised  that  if  the  worst  came 
Anna  should  surely  know  how  the  lover 
who  had  never  spoken  had  loved  her.  Then 
the  battle  came,  and  it  was  Lawrence  himself 


122  RankelVs  Remains. 

who  fell.  And  Hastings  brought  home  what 
news  of  his  friend  was  left  to  tell,  and  so 
always  had  a  welcome  in  the  house  where  he 
loved  to  go. 

But  as  the  shock  of  grief  wore  off,  and  Anna 
began  again  to  lead  the  life  she  was  used  to,  she 
had  drawn  away  from  him.  He  must  plod  at  his 
profession,  struggling  for  the  livelihood  that 
nothing  but  work  could  bring  him,  while  she 
laughed  in  what  seemed  to  him  a  round  of  empty 
folly,  listening  to  the  pretty  speeches  of  fellows 
who  learned  their  arts  of  pleasing  in  company 
far  different  from  hers.  Then  Hastings  had  set 
his  teeth,  and  worked  until  he  had  begun  to  win 
himself  a  name,  hating  all  the  while  every  one 
to  whom  she  spoke  kind  words  :  for  his  was  a 
nature  that  could  have  but  one  great  passion, 
and  that  distorted  all  things  else.  There  were 
times  even  when  he  thought  her  growing  un- 
worthy of  the  love  that,  without  speaking,  he  gave 
her.  It  was  only  now  and  then,  in  quiet  hours 
like  that  in  which  their  talk  had  been  broken  by 
Howard's  coming  with  the  news  of  ruin,  that 


The   Wybornes.  123 


he  had  found  her  still  gentle  and  sweet  and 
simple.  Yet  what  slight  words  she  spoke  in 
such  rare  times  as  these,  that  had  seemed  pass- 
ing, were  ever  a  fresh  inspiration  for  the  work 
he  was  doing. 

Then,  when  the  crash  came,  he  had  helped 
her  people  with  a  full  heart.  And  one  day, 
finding  her  alone,  he  had  dared  to  tell  her  all, 
begging  her  to  rest  on  him,  and  so  escape  the 
trials  that  were  coming.  He  had  begged  that 
he  might  help  her  father  too;  his  work  was 
winning  money  now,  and  there  were  none  to 
depend  on  him.  But  she  had  shaken  her  head 
and  closed  her  lips,  turning  pale.  If  matters 
had  fallen  otherwise,  she  could  not  tell;  but 
now  her  duty  was  with  her  own  people.  They 
must  stand  together,  and  honor  bade  them  stand 
alone;  so,  as  he  loved  her,  let  her  hear  no 
more  of  this. 

He  had  taken  her  at  her  word.  For  months 
that  had  lengthened  into  years  he  had  worked 
on,  watching  her  as  he  could,  but  giving  no 
sign,  and  resolved  to  give  none  until  the  end. 


124  RankelVs  Remains. 

At  worst  it  was  only  what  he  had  known  from 
the  first,  —  even  in  her  sorrow,  he  was  not  wor- 
thy to  help  her.  He  had  never  doubted  that, 
for  all  their  trouble,  her  people  were  free  from 
want.  And  so  he  had  worked  on,  prudently, 
as  we  thought,  feathering  his  empty  nest. 

But  at  last,  when  what  I  said  gave  him  a 
glimpse  of  the  misery  that  was  coming  to  her, 
he  had  gathered  courage  to  disobey ;  and  go- 
ing timidly  to  her  lodging,  he  had  found  her 
alone.  Then  he  had  spoken  again.  He  asked 
for  nothing  but  that  she  would  let  his  life- 
work,  that  was  bringing  him  fortune  at  last,  be 
brought  an  offering  to  her  in  need.  Let  her 
take  of  it,  never  saying  whence  it  came,  until 
at  least  she  and  hers  wanted  for  nothing.  It 
was  hers  by  right ;  for  she  alone,  all  unknow- 
ing, had  made  him  win  all  that  he  had. 

Then  Anna  had  said  nothing,  but  with  eyes 
full  of  tears  had  held  out  her  thin  hand.  And 
reverent  and  amazed,  for  he  could  not  bring 
himself  all  at  once  to  know  his  happiness,  he 
had  drawn  her  slowly  to  himself;  and  beneath 


The  Wybornes.  12; 


her  dark  hair  he  had  been  suffered  to  kiss  the 
scar  that  when  she  was  a  little  child  he  had 
unwittingly  made. 

XIX. 

There  is  little  more  to  tell  here.  It  was  not 
long  afterward  that  with  one  or  two  more  I 
saw  the  quiet  wedding  that  began  for  those  of 
whom  I  have  been  writing  a  new  life.  In  the 
house  where  they  lived  together  I  saw  them 
often  in  time  to  come.  There,  by  and  by, 
poor  Howard's  life  flickered  out  in  peace.  And 
as  Anna  bore  children,  and  they  grew  big 
enough  to  play  about  the  chair  whence  Mr. 
Wyborne  rarely  moved  now,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  he  had  never,  in  his  most  prosperous  days, 
been  so  full  of  the  gentle  courtesy  that  made  us 
love  him.  So,  with  his  new  children  about  him, 
he  glided  on  toward  his  end,  speaking,  when 
his  thoughts  and  his  speech  were  not  gently  at 
rest,  chiefly  of  those  olden  times  of  which  we 
all,  and  he  most  of  all,  loved  to  think. 


III. 

THE  LOTTIMERS. 


T 


VHE  second  of  my  three  stories  deals  with 
the  fortunes  of  Mr.  Joseph  Lottimer,  for 
many  years  confidential  clerk  at  Rankell's.  Of 
him  I  personally  knew  very  little,  arid  of  his 
family,  who  play  a  good  part  in  the  story,  less 
still.  But  a  knowledge  of  what  they  were  like, 
and  of  what  befell  them,  came  to  me  in  this  way. 
For  a  long  time  an  old  friend  of  mine  has  prac- 
tised medicine  in  a  suburban  town  where  his 
father  practised  before  him.  With  this  quiet 
career  he  commonly  seems  contented ;  but  now 
and  then,  at  intervals  that  are  growing  longer, 
he  is  seized  with  a  desire  to  stretch  himself, 
as  he  expresses  it.  So  he  turns  up  in  town  with 
an  eager  appetite  for  such  news  as  does  not 
get  into  the  papers. 

On  one  of  these  flying  visits,  when  he  chose 
to  put  up  at  my  lodgings,  I  told  him,  over  a 
9 


130  RankelVs  Remains. 

pipe  and  a  glass  of  spirits  and  water,  something 
of  what  had  happened  to  the  Wybornes  ;  he  had 
known  the  boys  at  college.  In  return  he  pro- 
fessed to  have  a  tale  about  some  patients  of  his 
that  would  more  than  match  mine,  and  a  tale, 
oddly  enough,  that  concerned  one  of  the  chief 
actors  in  that  of  the  Wybornes,  —  namely,  Ran- 
kell.  So  in  a  graphic  way  of  his  own  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  me  the  story  of  the  Lottimers. 

Much  as  he  told  it  I  shall  tell  it  here,  adding 
perhaps  a  few  things  that  came  otherwise  to  my 
knowledge,  and  perhaps,  too,  filling  in  some 
degree  what  outlines  of  the  story  seem  too  bare. 
For  these  people,  I  find,  are  grown  very  real  to 
me  ;  and  very  likely  I  do  not  always  distinguish 
between  matters  as  they  must  have  been  and 
matters  that  I  know  for  a  certainty. 

II. 

In  a  small  way  of  his  own  Mr.  Joseph  Lotti- 
mer  was  a  well-known  man.  If  everybody  in 
town   knew    Rankell,   everybody    at    Rankell's 


The  Lottimers.  131 


knew  Mr.  Lottimer,  the  confidential  clerk.  Be- 
sides, he  lived  in  a  suburb  where  society  was 
simple  enough  to  entitle  him  to  prominence  as 
a  leading  member  of  the  Baptist  Church. 

His  position  at  Rankell's,  where  he  was  ex- 
pected   to    keep   an    eye    on    everybody,    from 
cashier  to  cash-boy,  was  a  rather  delicate  one. 
But  Mr.  Lottimer  attended   to  his   duty  in  so 
simple  and   unpretentious  a   way  that   he  was 
never  unpopular.     If  any  one  was  puzzled  and 
came   to   him   for  advice  he  was  always  ready 
with    the    best    advice    at    his    disposal.      And 
though  no  jurist,  he  was  in  his  own  way  a  good 
case-lawyer.     If  there  was  a  precedent  he  al- 
ways  remembered    it;    if  there    was   none    he 
naturally  appealed  to  Rankell,  and  never  forgot 
the  decision. 

One  Christmas  Eve  he  had  been  interrupted 
in  the  act  of  putting  on  his  coat,  and  requested 
to  step  into  the  counting-room.  There  he  had 
found  a  considerable  company  assembled  ;  and 
one  of  the  book-keepers,  who  was  thought  to 
possess  a  vein  of  eloquence,  had  made  a  speech, 


132  BankelVs  Remains. 


requesting  him  to  accept  as  a  token  of  good-will 
and  prosperity  from  the  employees  of  RankelFs 
a  beautiful  Christmas  gift,  consisting  of  a  silver 
ice-pitcher  and  goblets.  These,  the  spokesman 
declared,  the  donors  hoped  would  nourish  for 
years  in  Mr.  Lottimer's  unbroken  family  circle. 
The  ice-pitcher  was  not  silver,  but  plated ;  and 
together  with  the  goblets  and  the  waiter  on 
which  they  stood  was  decorated  with  roses  and 
acorns  intertwined  with  an  Arabesque  design, 
which  merged  in  handles  representing  some- 
thing with  the  head  of  a  sphinx  and  the  tail  of 
a  Renaissance  Triton.  But  Mr.  Lottimer  had 
fairly  broken  down  at  the  sight  of  this  unex- 
pected tribute  to  his  character.  With  red  face 
and  stammering  voice  he  had  assured  his  friends 
that  he  should  never  forget  this  delightful  occa- 
sion ;  he  trusted  he  should  prove  himself  wor- 
thy of  it ;  he  should  always  be  happy  to  see 
them  if  they  visited  his  neighborhood.  And  after 
much  hand-shaking  he  had  borne  off  the  elegant 
testimonial,  as  he  called  it,  to  be  thenceforth 
the  most  treasured  ornament  of  his  parlor. 


The  Lottimers.  133 


Mr.  Lottinier's  career  was  quite  free  from 
mystery.  If  his  friends  in  general  knew  no 
more  than  that  he  was  Rankell's  factotum,  it 
was  because  they  never  inquired  further.  You 
could  hardly  talk  with  him  for  half  an  hour 
without  learning  what  few  facts  there  were  in 
his  history. 

His  father,  an  Englishman,  had  been  a  ship- 
master. In  this  part  of  the  world  he  appeared 
early  in  middle  life,  and  after  the  manner  of 
those  who  follow  the  sea  presently  married  a 
native.  When  not  away  on  a  voyage  he  lived 
good-naturedly  with  his  wife  in  a  small  house  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  now  and  then  he 
sent  home  money.  At  last,  when  Joseph  was  a 
small  boy,  the  captain  sailed  away  for  good  and 
all.  There  was  a  story,  which  Joseph  firmly 
believed,  that  he  had  been  lost  overboard  in  a 
gale.  Another  version  of  his  fate  was  that  he 
preferred  another  family,  which  he  cultivated  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Liverpool  ;  but  this  was 
only  scandal. 

The  widow,  a  gentle,  uncomplaining  woman, 


134  BankelVs  Remains. 

managed  to  support  her  child  decently  by  going 
out  as  a  monthly  nurse.  In  this  capacity  she 
became  very  popular  ;  and  to  the  end  of  his 
life  Joseph  Lottimer  took  much  satisfaction  in 
telling  how  he  had  known,  in  their  earliest 
infancy,  some  of  the  most  prominent  people  in 
town.  His  range  of  social  anecdote,  indeed, 
gave  him  among  people  he  met  casually  a  repu- 
tation, that  he  would  have  been  the  first  to  dis- 
claim, of  having  seen  better  days.  For  his  part, 
he  was  innocently  proud  of  his  own  success. 

He  had  been  sent  to  the  public  schools. 
Then,  when  he  was  twelve  or  fifteen  years  old, 
the  husband  of  one  of  his  mother's  clients  had 
given  him  a  small  place  in  a  wholesale  store. 
Here  he  proved  himself  so  valuable  that  by  the 
time  he  was  twenty  years  old  his  salary  was 
sufficient  to  enable  his  mother  to  retire  from 
active  life.  So  they  took  rooms  together  in  a 
decent  boarding-house  kept  b}^  a  motherly  old 
lady  named  Jones.  This  Mrs.  Jones,  who  often 
talked  of  a  son  that  was  gone  West,  had  a  prett}r 
daughter,  who  helped  keep  house  and  made  eyes 


The  Lottimers.  135 


at  the  male  boarders.  But  Joseph  Lottimer  was 
too  good  a  son  to  permit  himself  more  than  pass- 
ing interest  in  anybody  but  his  mother.  So, 
surrounded  with  every  attention,  Mrs.  Lottimer 
lived  much  respected  until  one  night  she  quietly 
died  of  heart-disease,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three. 

Joseph's  heart,  thus  lacerated,  was  for  the 
moment  peculiarly  sensitive.  Naturally  enough, 
then,  he  proceeded  to  fall  in  love  with  pert  Miss 
Rhoda  Jones.  For  a  while  she  was  disposed  to 
laugh  at  her  diffident  admirer.  Her  smiles  she 
reserved  for  a  spruce  young  man  of  business  who 
frequented  the  house.  But  one  day  this  young 
man  unexpectedly  married  somebody  else  ;  and 
the  effect  of  this  union  on  Miss  Rhoda  was 
such  that  before  long  she  was  engaged  to  Joseph 
Lottimer.  There  was  no  reason  for  delaying 
marriage.  Mrs.  Jones  was  quite  satisfied  with 
the  match  ;  and  Joseph,  who  had  just  gone  into 
Rankell's  employ,  had  a  capital  salary.  So  they 
were  immediately  married,  and  lived  on  at  Mrs. 
Jones's  much  as  they  had  lived  before. 

The  chief  difference   was   that   Mrs.    Rhoda 


136  RankelVs  Remains. 

Lottimer  was  by  no  means  as  cheerful  a  person 
as  Miss  Rhocla  Jones  had  been,  nor  yet  so  easy 
to  satisfy  as  her  elderly  predecessor  in  Joseph's 
affections.  Before  long  the  trouble  was  ex- 
plained. She  was  prematurely  brought  to  bed 
of  a  boy  who  did  not  live,  and  who  came  near 
proving  the  end  of  his  mother.  It  was  Joseph's 
devotion,  indeed,  that  brought  her  through  the 
illness  ;  for  Mrs.  Jones,  who  had  little  head,  gave 
herself  over  to  laments.  Joseph  passed  every 
moment  he  could  spare  from  Rankell's  at  his 
wife's  bedside.  The  power  of  caring  for  the 
sick  that  he  inherited  from  his  mother  served 
to  keep  hope  alive  in  Rhoda's  mind.  And  when 
at  last,  after  weeks  of  critical  illness,  she  reached 
a  condition  where  the  doctors  pronounced  her 
out  of  danger,  she  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was 
her  husband  alone  who  had  saved  her.  She 
rose  up  at  last,  looking  ten  }^ears  older  than  she 
was,  and  without  the  pert  gayetj^  that  used  to  be 
her  most  salient  quality.  But  she  was  changed 
in  more  ways  than  one  ;  from  the  day  the  fever 
left  her,  and  she  first  asked  Joseph  to  kiss  her 


The  Lottimers.  137 


thin  face,  she  seemed  almost  to  worship  the 
prosaic  husband  at  whom  she  used  to  laugh. 

For  a  long  time  little  varied  the  life  of  the 
Lottimers.  Old  Mrs.  Jones  had  a  stroke  of 
paralysis  that  closed  the  boarding-house  and 
ultimately  sent  the  whole  family  out  of  town. 
There,  in  the  suburb  where  my  friend  the  doctor 
practised,  they  lived  for  years,  with  growing 
respectability.  A  second  stroke  disposed  of 
Mrs.  Jones.  And  two  children,  a  boy  and  a 
girl,  were  born  to  the  Lottimers,  and  survived 
the  allotted  dangers  of  infancy.  The  girl's 
career  had  been  wholly  uneventful  ;  her  chief 
characteristics  being  a  fondness  for  finery  which 
her  father's  improving  circumstances  enabled 
him  to  supply,  and  later  a  promising  soprano 
voice,  cultivated  at  a  city  conservatory. 

Her  brother,  who  was  some  years  older,  was 
less  fortunate.  As  a  small  boy  he  was  vigor- 
ous in  every  way ;  but  one  unlucky  day  his 
father  was  teased  into  taking  him  to  town,  with 
the  understanding  that  he  should  take  good 
care  of  himself,  and  without  leaving  RankelFs 


138  liankelVs  Remains. 

should  keep  out  of  the  way  during  business 
hours.  In  his  efforts  to  do  so  the  youth  wan- 
dered to  the  third  story  of  the  store,  whence  he 
managed  to  tumble  down  the  shaft  of  the  ele- 
vator, landing  on  his  head.  Though  he  was 
picked  up  for  dead,  his  unusual  physical  vigor 
pulled  him  through  the  illness  which  resulted 
from  his  severe  concussion  of  the  brain  ;  but 
he  was  never  quite  like  other  people. 

Before  the  accident  he  had  been  a  fair  scholar 
for  his  age,  and  his  father  had  cherished  an  idea 
of  sending  him  to  college.  But  his  fall  seemed 
to  knock  all  power  of  learning  out  of  his  head. 
He  grew  very  large  and  powerful  in  body ;  in 
off-hours  he  was  fond  of  straying  into  the  com- 
pany of  laborers,  who  were  astonished  at  his 
feats  of  strength  ;  he  would  often  lift  weights 
that  staggered  two  ordinary  men.  But  he  was 
very  slow  of  wit ;  and  at  last  his  father  aban- 
doned dreams  of  education,  and  made  bold  to 
ask  Mr.  Rankell  whether  a  place  could  be  found 
for  Joe  in  some  corner  of  the  establishment. 

Rankell  asked  a  good  many  questions,  sent 


The  Lottimers,  139 


for  the  lad,  and  finally  gave  him  a  small  position 
in  the  carpeting  department,  where  heavy  goods 
needed  constant  handling.  For  some  years 
after  that,  father  and  son  came  to  town  together 
every  morning ;  and  while  Joseph  Lottimer  was 
busy  among  the  clerks,  young  Joe  passed  his 
days  in  pulling  about  and  unrolling  and  rolling 
up  endless  carpets.  He  worked  well,  he  showed 
no  sign  of  discontent,  he  never  asked  for  pro- 
motion, and  Rankell  showed  no  sign  of  promot- 
ing him.  Still,  Mr.  Lottimer  always  said,  Mr. 
Rankell  had  been  very  kind  to  give  Joe  any 
place  at  all,  and  the  family  was  duly  grateful. 

III. 

Mr.  Lottimer's  home  life  was  as  regular  as 
his  life  at  Rankell's.  Supper  took  him  half  an 
hour.  Then  he  re-read  the  evening  newspaper. 
This,  by  the  way,  he  always  bought  of  a  news- 
boy ;  subscription  he  held  extravagant,  inas- 
much as  you  could  never  tell  but  that  you 
might  be  prevented  from  reading  your  paper. 


140  RankelVs  Remains. 

When  his  reading  was  clone  he  commonly  fell 
asleep.  Mrs.  Lottimer,  sewing  or  knitting, 
would  keep  very  quiet  for  fear  of  waking 
him.  Joe,  meanwhile,  would  commonly  twirl 
his  thumbs,  staring  at  vacancy.  When  a  fel- 
low feels  tired,  there  is  no  sense  in  moving  or 
thinking  ;  but  going  to  sleep  before  going  to 
bed,  or  going  to  bed  before  bedtime,  formed  no 
part  of  his  life. 

Sadie  was  not  so  easy  to  manage.  As  a  little 
girl,  she  was  sent  to  bed  immediately  after  sup- 
per ;  but  when  she  grew  older  it  was  thought 
that  she  might  well  relieve  her  mother  of  the 
work  of  washing  dishes.  So  her  regular  tasks 
began  after  those  of  the  rest  of  the  family 
ended.  She  did  not  assert  herself  so  strongly 
as  to  decline  this  work,  but  she  never  lost  a 
chance  of  complaint ;  nor  did  she  often  manage 
to  wash  the  dishes  without  a  noise  that  men- 
aced at  once  her  father's  slumbers  and  the 
family  crockery. 

"  Sadie ! "  Mrs.  Lottimer  would  be  heard  to 
call,  in  a  piercing  whisper,  almost  every  night. 


The  Lottimer  8,  141 


"  Well  ? "  Sadie  would  answer  in  a  shrill 
tone. 

"  'Sh ! "  would  come  from  her  mother,  who 
by  this  time  would  be  near  the  pantry  door. 

"What's  that  you  say?"  would  come  back 
from  Sadie,  in  a  higher  key  than  ever. 

"  You  've  got  to  keep  quiet.  Father  's 
asleep." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  making  any  noise." 

"  Yes,  you  are.     He  jumped  just  now." 

"So  he  did,"  Joe  would  grunt,  "and  said 
4  What 's  that  ?  '     I  heard  him." 

"  Keep  quiet,  Joe,"  Mrs.  Lottimer  would  say 
despairingly.     "  You  '11  wake  father  yourself." 

"  I  guess  it 's  him,  not  me,"  would  come  from 
Sadie. 

"  If  you  don't  keep  quiet,"  poor  Mrs.  Lotti- 
mer would  sigh,  "  I  don't  know  what  I  shall 
do." 

"  If  you  want  folks  to  wash  dishes  so  as  you 
can't  hear  'em,"  Sadie  would  retort,  "you'll 
have  to  get  deaf." 

Whereat  Mrs.   Lottimer,  with  offended  dig- 


142  RanhelVs  Remains. 

nity,  would  softly  close  the  pantry  door  ;  while 
Sadie's  voice  might  often  be  heard  through  the 
thin  partition,  singing  hymn- tunes  in  a  muffled 
crescendo. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Lottimer,  quite  tired  out, 
would  slumber  on.  He  never  waked  until 
half-past  nine.  Then  he  would  start  up,  rub 
his  eyes,  and  exclaiming,  "  Dear  me  !  it  's 
bed-time,"  would  proceed  to  lock  up  for  the 
night. 

Occasionally,  of  course,  something  would  vary 
this  routine.  The  Baptist  Church,  of  which  Mr. 
Lottimer  was  a  faithful  member,  was  by  no 
means  so  old-fashioned  as  to  confine  its  energies 
to  spiritual  matters.  And  whenever  there  was 
a  parish  sociable,  or  an  Old  Folks'  Concert,  or  a 
reception  of  the  Ladies'  Sewing  Society,  —  as 
the  old  Dorcas  Society  had  been  rechristened, 
—  the  Lottimers  were  sure  to  be  on  hand. 
Once  a  month  or  so,  too,  Sunday  was  an  unusu- 
ally great  day ;  instead  of  the  regular  evening 
service  there  would  be  a  Sabbath-school  con- 
cert in  which   Sadie,   whose  voice   was  much 


The  Lot-timers.  143 


admired,  always  took  a  prominent  part ;  while 
Joe  regularly  came  to  grief  in  an  heroic  effort 
to  sing  bass. 

IV. 

One  Sunday  a  notable  concert  was  to  take 
place.  A  cantata,  based  on  the  story  of  Samuel, 
was  to  be  sung  in  costume.  Sadie  had  been 
chosen  for  the  part  of  Hannah,  which  opened 
the  cantata  with  a  solo  devoted  to  the  cause 
of  temperance,  and  beginning  :  — 

"  I  am  not  drunk.     I  spurn  the  cup 

Wherein  the  serpent  lies. 
Wine  raiseth  evil  spirits  up 

And  blinds  its  votaries. 
Strong  drink  and  wine  I  spurn  as  foul, 

By  evil  men  adored. 
For  my  part  I  pour  forth  my  soul 

Before  my  righteous  Lord." 

The  orthodoxy  of  these  sentiments  was  assured 
by  a  note  on  the  programme  referring  the  curi- 
ous to  1  Samuel  i.  15.  A  cantata  in  costume, 
it  was  felt,  required  extraordinary  Scriptural 
support. 


144  RanhelVs  Remains. 

The  Lottimers  looked  forward  to  this  enter- 
tainment with  a  delicious  mixture  of  pleasur- 
able emotion.  In  the  first  place,  as  the  cantata 
was  to  be  sung  in  church,  whoever  went  would 
enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  serving  God  all  the 
while.  At  the  same  time,  unlike  some  devo- 
tional exercises,  the  cantata  itself  would  doubt- 
less be  interesting ;  and  Sadie's  performance 
would  do  credit  to  the  family.  As  for  Joe, 
he  had  only  a  small  part  in  a  chorus  of  priests, 
where  the  defects  of  his  musical  method  would 
not  be  apparent.  Altogether,  they  sat  down 
to  early  tea  in  a  very  comfortable  state  of 
mind. 

Tea  was  not  half  over  when  somebody  rang 
the  door-bell ;  and  Sadie  had  to  leave  her  bis- 
cuit and  answer  the  summons,  amid  general 
wonder  as  to  who  might  be  there.  It  turned 
out  to  be  a  stranger,  —  a  tall  man  in  a  soft 
felt  hat  and  a  linen  duster.  His  cheeks  were 
shaven,  but  he  wore  a  heavy  reddish  moustache 
and  chin-beard ;  and  he  had  the  air  of  one 
alwa}rs  in  a  hurry. 


The  Lottimers.  145 


"Is  this  Joe  Lottimer's  ? "  he  asked,  the 
moment  the  door  opened. 

"  Mr.  Joseph  Lottimer  lives  here,"  said  Sadie, 
with  offended  dignity. 

"  Are  you  Sarah  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  My  name  is  Sadie.  Who  did  you 
wish  to  see  ?  " 

"Named  for  your  grandmother  Jones,  were  n't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  I  was,"  she  replied  with  asperity. 
The  visitor's  address  was  not  engaging.  Be- 
sides, it  was  nearly  time  to  start  for  the 
cantata. 

"  Well,"  said  the  stranger,  "  Sarah  was  a 
good  enough  name  for  her,  and  it  ought  to  be 
for  you.     Folks  at  home?" 

"They're  going  out,  sir.  You'll  have  to 
call  some  other  time." 

"Some  other  time,"  repeated  the  stranger, 
derisively.  "  If  they  were  to  wait  till  I  called 
some  other  time  they  'd  have  to  wait.  Here, 
take  my  gripsack,  will  you." 

And  handing  her  a  valise,  he  strode  past  her 
10 


146  RankelVs  Remains. 

into  the  house.  By  this  time  the  rest  of  the 
family,  catching  some  sound  of  the  talk,  had 
come  into  the  hall  to  see  what  it  was  all  about. 
So  there  the  stranger  met  them. 

"How'de  do  Rhody  ?  "  he  said  to  the  aston- 
ished Mrs.  Lottimer,  and  proceeded  to  kiss  her. 

Mrs.  Lottimer  gasped  at  this  unwonted  treat- 
ment. Mr.  Lottimer  drew  himself  up  with 
angry  dignity. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"This  is  your  husband,  I  s'pose,"  said  the 
stranger,  ignoring  the  question.  "  How  are 
you,  Joe?  That 's  your  name,  ain't  it?"  And 
he  held  out  a  big  hand. 

Mr.  Lottimer  stood  in  dismay.  His  habitual 
methods  afforded  no  suggestion  of  how  to  treat 
a  large  stranger  who  kisses  your  wife  and  then 
makes  friendly  advances ;  but  Mrs.  Lottimer 
suddenly  solved  the  problem. 

"  Why,  it  's  William  Jones,  my  own 
brother,  that  I  have  n't  seen  for  years  and 
years!"  she  exclaimed.  And  throwing  her 
arms  about  his  neck,   she  burst  into  tears. 


The  Lottimers.  147 


"  Did  n't  you  know  me  ? "  asked  Jones. 
"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  it 's  strange,  if  I  've 
aged  the  way  you  have.  Yes,  it 's  me,  sure 
enough,  straight  from  Colorado.  Come,  we  've 
had  kissing  enough,  unless  Sarah  here  wants 
to   begin." 

Sadie  tossed  her  head  disdainfully.  She 
had  no  intention  of  answering  to  the  name  of 
"  Sarah."  So  her  uncle,  having  freed  himself 
from  the  embrace  of  Mrs.  Lottimer,  and  having 
shaken  hands  with  his  newly  found  brother-in- 
law,  and  having  informed  Joe  that  he  was  a 
big  fellow  if  he  wasn't  handsome,  proceeded 
to  announce  that  he  was  mighty  hungry.  Amid 
incoherent  exclamations  of  welcome,  then,  from 
all  but  the  offended  Sadie,  he  made  his  way 
to  the  dining-room  and  set  to  with  appetite. 

Jones  —  who  was  one  of  those  Western  men 
that  carry  with  them  the  atmosphere  of  a  coun- 
try too  big  to  live  in  —  ate  fast,  and  talked 
fast  the  while ;  and  his  talk  was  chiefly  about 
himself. 

"  Let 's  see  ;   when  did  I  write  you  last  ?  — 


148  RankelVs  Remains. 

St.  Louis  ?  —  Oh,  yes  ;  I  was  talking  of  going  to 
Arizona.  Well,  I  did  n't ;  went  to  Colorado  in- 
stead." So  he  rattled  on,  giving  without  much 
method  some  account  of  his  thirty  years'  strug- 
gle for  money,  which  apparently  still  eluded 
him.  At  one  time  or  another  he  had  lived  in 
pretty  much  every  State  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
always  trying  his  hand  at  something  new,  which 
always  proved  unsuited  to  his  purposes.  At 
last,  he  said,  he  had  struck  a  thing  that  looked 
well,  and  thereupon  he  had  run  East  to  see  his 
relations.  They  had  given  him,  he  was  pleased 
to  say  in  conclusion,  a  bang-up  supper.  Thus 
refreshed,  he  declared  with  an  air  of  approval 
that  the  Lottimers  looked  real  comfortable. 

"  I  don't  feel  comfortable  at  all,"  put  in 
Sadie.  "  If  we  don't  start,  we  shall  be  late 
for  the  cantata." 

"  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  stay  with 
your  uncle  ?  "  suggested  Mr.  Lottimer,  —  "we 
have  n't  seen  him  for  so  long." 

"  Did  n't  know  }*ou  'd  ever  seen  me,"  inter- 
posed Jones. 


The  Lottimers.  149 


"  Well,  father  !  "  exclaimed  Sadie.  "  And 
disappoint  all  the  people  ?  They  can't  have 
the  cantata  without  me ;  and  I  ain't  dressed 
yet." 

44  That 's  so,"  said  Joe,  solemnly.  And  there- 
upon Mr.  Lottimer  described  the  delights  of 
a  cantata,  suggesting  that  William  would  per- 
haps go   with   them. 

But  William,  with  much  frankness,  declared 
that  he  would  see  them  further  first.  Go 
ahead,  though  ;  don't  mind  him.  He  'd  stay 
and   talk   to    Joe. 

44  Joe  sings,  too,"  said  Sadie;  u  he  's  a 
Rabbi." 

44  Hell !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  William,  uncon- 
scious of  the  stir  his  expletive  made.  44  At 
his   age  ?  " 

A  short  explanation  corrected  his  confusion 
of  father  and  son.  Then,  as  Mr.  Lottimer  de- 
clared he  would  much  prefer  staying  at  home 
with  his  newly  found  relative,  while  the  others 
were  in  duty  bound  to  start  at  once,  the  two 
men  were  left  alone,  —  to  talk,  or,  if  they  found 


150  RankelVs  Remains. 

nothing  to  talk  about,  to  digest  the  apologies 
with  which  Mrs.  Lottimer  took  her  leave. 


V. 

Mr.  Lottimer  had  nothing  to  say.  He 
could  think  only  of  how  odd  it  was  to  be  con- 
fronted in  his  own  house  with  a  noisy  stranger 
who  treated  him  as  if  they  were  old  friends. 

Jones,  however,  was  quite  at  ease.  He  be- 
gan b}^  offering  his  host  a   cigar. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,*'  said  Mr.  Lottimer ;  "  I 
never   smoke." 

"Call   me    Bill,"    said   Jones,  biting   off  the 

end  of  his  cigar.     " it,  Joe,  ain't  I  in  the 

family  ?  That 's  what  made  me  want  to  come 
and  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"  I  'm  sure  we  are  all  very  glad  to  see  you," 
said  Mr.  Lottimer,  civilly.  And  the  conversa- 
tion lapsed  ;  while  Jones  produced  a  match 
and  lighted  his  cigar  with  quick  puffs. 

The  cigar  once  kindled,  he  looked  at  the  end 
to  be  sure  it  was  burning  evenly.     Then  with 


Tlte  Lottimer  8.  151 


a  swift  motion  of  the  hand  he  extinguished  the 
match  and  threw  what  was  left  of  it  on  the 
spotless  carpet.  Then,  blowing  a  cloud  of  smoke 
into  the  hitherto  unpolluted  air  of  Mr.  Lottimer's 
parlor,  he  jerked  out  the  surprising  question, 
"  What  are  you  worth  ?  " 

"Why  — "  said  the  astonished  Lottimer,  "I 
don't  exactly  know,  sir." 

"  Oh, figures,"  said  William.     "  Take  it 

in  the  rough." 

"  Well,  even  roughly,  sir,"  stammered  Lotti- 
mer, "it's  difficult  to  say  all  of  a  sudden."  He 
knew  to  a  penny  what  he  had,  and  where  it 
was,  but  common  prudence  forbade  him  to  tell. 
Jones's  methods  of  questioning  drove  him  to 
prevarication.  "I've  got  a  little  something,"  he 
added  by  way  of  soothing  his  conscience. 

"  Is  it  ten  thousand,  or  twenty,  or  fifty  ? 
That 's  near  enough  for  me." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  poor  Lottimer,  shifting  in 
his  chair,  and  wishing  to  goodness  that  he  was 
at  the  cantata.  "  But  what  do  you  want  to 
know  for?" 


152  RankelVs  Remains. 

"That's  fair  enough,"  said  Jones.  "I've 
struck  a  good  thing  for  a  man  that  has  a  little 
money  to  spare,  and  I  want  to  keep  it  in  the 
family." 

"  I  'm  very  much  obliged,"  said  Lottimer. 
"  But  what  little  I  have  is  all  invested." 

"What  does  it  pay?" 

"Why — "  and  Lottimer  stammered  again. 

"Seven  per  cent?  " 

"No,  sir,  hardly  that." 

"Six?" 

"  Well  —  " 

"  Five  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  say  so  as  a  rule." 

"  And  you  're  satisfied  with  that  ?  By 
thunder !  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  sir,  I  have  to  make  my  in- 
vestments safe.  I  can't  afford  to  lose  anything. 
If  I  should  be  taken  away  there  'd  be  nothing 
for  the  family  but  what  I  've  saved  and  what 
poor  Joe  could  earn." 

Jones  blew  a  huge  cloud  of  smoke  with  a  sort 
of  whistle. 


The  Lottimer  h.  15o 


"Well,"  he  remarked,  "you're  what  I  call 
a  real  enterprising  kind  of  man.  That's  what 
you  are." 

"I  don't  pretend  to  be  enterprising,"  pro- 
tested Lottimer.  "  Some  men  can  be,  and  it 's  all 
right.  Some  men  ain't  made  so;  and  it's  no 
use  trying  to  be  what  you  weren't  intended 
for." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Jones,  "I  don't  set  up  to 
know  what  you  was  intended  for;  but  if  God 
Almighty  didn't  put  us  Americans  in  this 
country  so  as  we  might  go  just  as  far  as  we 
can,  I  don't  see  the  use  of  us  at  all !  " 

"  It 's  all  very  mysterious,"  said  Mr.  Lottimer, 
displeased  with  the  vigor  of  William's  address ; 
"but  we  can't  doubt  it's  for  the  best  — " 

"  See  here,  Joe,"  put  in  Jones,  with  determi- 
nation, "I  don't  mean  to  let  this  thing  drop 
right  here.     Just  you  listen  to  me." 

And  seating  himself  at  right  angles  with  Mr. 
Lottimer,  with  his  foot  on  the  rung  of  Mr.  Lot- 
timer's  chair,  he  began  his  exposition,  emphasiz- 
ing the  chief  points  by  laying  his  right  hand  on 


154  RankelVs  Remains. 

Mr.  Lottimer's  knee.  As  this  hand  often  held 
his  cigar,  and  the  curling  smoke  made  Mr.  Lot- 
timer  cough  and  weep,  the  chief  points  were 
not  always  so  clear  as  Jones  intended.  But  at 
the  end  of  an  hour  or  so  Lottimer  had  grasped 
enough  of  his  brother-in-law's  proposition  to 
make  him  profoundly  unhappy  ;  for  it  set  him  to 
questioning  all  the  principles  of  his  existence. 
To  begin  with,  Jones  admitted  that  so  far  he 

had  made  little  headway  in  life,  "But it, 

Joe,"  he  said,  "  a  man  must  take  knocks  if  he 
wants  to  learn  how  to  give  'em."  And  he  had 
kept  his  eyes  opeu  right  along.  This  vigilance 
had  at  last  been  rewarded  by  the  discovery  of 
some  land  in  Colorado  that  was  "rotten  with 
silver,  sir,  perfectly  rotten,"  and  yet  that  had 
escaped  the  notice  of  less  experienced  adven- 
turers. It  was  to  be  had  almost  for  the  asking. 
Unfortunately  Mr.  Jones  was  penniless.  He 
needed  no  more  than  a  beggarly  twenty  or 
thirty  thousand  ;  but  if  at  that  moment  he  could 
lay  his  hand  on  a  beggarly  five,  he  declared 
that   he   wished    he    might    die.      Under    these 


The  Lottimers.  155 


circumstances  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  hold 
his  tongue  until  he  could  borrow  what  he 
needed.  So  the  question  arose  as  to  whom  he 
should  address  with  a  promised  certainty  of 
riches.  There  were  plenty  of  people  out  West 
who  would  have  gone  into  the  speculation 
"even  as  a  flyer,  let  alone  a  sure  thing;"  but, 
just  on  the  eve  of  approaching  some  of  them, 
Jones  had  bethought  himself  that  nothing  would 
give  such  commanding  dignity  to  the  coming 
fortune  as  to  have  it  all  in  the  family.  So,  as 
the  secret  was  too  precious  to  be  written,  he 
had  come  posting  eastward  as  fast  as  steam 
would  carry  him,  to  propose  to  Lottimer  the 
plan  that  should  place  them,  kith  and  kin, 
among  the  great  and  good  of  the  land. 

There  was  a  straightforward  simplicity  about 
the  man,  with  all  his  roughness.  He  did  not 
pretend  to  be  disinterested.  "  It 's  a  big  thing 
to  be  rich,"  as  he  expressed  it,  "  but  it's  a  sight 
bigger  to  have  a  rich  crowd."  It  seemed  wrong 
not  to  consider  the  matter ;  yet  how  could 
}^ou  tell  that   Jones   was  not  mistaken,  as  he 


156  RankelVs  Remains. 

admitted  he  had  been  in  the  past.  To  lose  money 
would  be  dreadful ;  to  neglect  a  real  chance  of 
making  a  fortune  would  cause  life-long  regret. 
Poor  Lottimer  took  refuge  in  wishing  that  Jones 
had  never  thought  of  him,  and  before  long  was 
stupidly  wondering  how  soon  the  family  would 
return  from  the  cantata. 

"Well,"  said  Jones,  testily,  recalling  him  to 
the  puzzling  question,  "  have  n't  you  anything 
to  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  It 's  very  kind  of  you  to  propose 
this." 

"  Kind   be ! "    said    Jones.     "  Will   you 

come  in  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  it  is  so  unexpected.  I  must  take 
time  to  think." 

"  You  '11  have  to  look  sharp.  This  thing  ain't 
going  begging." 

But  poor  Lottimer,  who  was  far  too  flurried 
to  say  yes  or  no,  finally  had  leave  to  sleep  on 
it.  He  would  give  a  definite  answer  the  next 
evening  ;  and  William  agreed  to  pass  a  day 
with  his  sister. 


The  Lottimers.  lo7 


This  conclusion  was  hastened  by  the  opening 
of  the  outer  door  as  Mrs.  Lottimer  returned 
from  the  cantata  ;  and  Jones  had  barely  time 
to  remind  Lottimer  that  he  must  n't  talk  to  her 
about  the  matter,  —  thereby  depriving  the  un- 
happy man  of  one  means  of  settling  doubt, — 
when  she  appeared  with  Joe.  The  cantata, 
they  said,  had  been  a  great  success.  Sadie, 
who  had  sung  beautifully,  was  taking  a  walk 
with  a  young  gentleman  who  had  asked  to  be 
introduced.  The  costumes  had  been  very  effec- 
tive, and  several  new  bonnets  had  appeared  in 
the  congregation.  When  Mrs.  Lottimer  had 
made  these  statements,  and  had  been  assured 
that  the  gentlemen  had  passed  a  pleasant  even- 
ing together,  the  conversation  lapsed. 

Mr.  Lottimer  then  proposed  that  they  should 
go  to  bed ;  he  would  leave  a  light  in  the  entry 
for  Sadie,  who  could  be  trusted  to  lock  the 
door.  And  to  bed  they  went,  where  everybody 
but  Mr.  Lottimer  was  soon  asleep.  He  lay 
very  quiet,  for  fear  of  disturbing  his  wife ;  but 
this  dreadful  puzzle  of  Jones's  kept  sleep  from 


158  RankelVs  Remain 


him.  And  long  after  Sadie  had  come  home, 
with  cheerful  words  of  farewell  to  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  taken  a  walk  with  her, 
Mr.  Lottimer  lay  wide  awake  listening  to  the 
church  clocks  as  they  rang  the  small  hours  of 
morning. 

VI. 

On  the  rare  occasions  in  the  past  when  doubt- 
ful questions  had  troubled  him,  he  had  settled 
them  by  appealing  to  higher  authority.  To 
make  up  his  mind  without  advice  seemed  quite 
beyond  his  power.  So  the  next  day,  when  his 
routine  business  was  over,  he  asked  Mr.  Ran- 
kell  for  a  few  minutes'  private  talk. 

"Anything  wrong?  "  asked  Rankell. 

"  No,  sir ;  it 's  about  a  little  business  of  my 
own." 

"  Did  n't  know  you  had  any." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  n't  exactly." 

"  Glad  of  it.  When  a  man  's  got  a  regular 
business,  I  believe  in  his  sticking  to  it." 

"  Yes,  sir,  so  do  I.     This  is  very  unusual;  you 


The  Lottimers.  159 


see  —  "     And  he  stammered,  for  he  felt  guilty 
thus  trespassing  on  Mr.  RankelFs  time. 

Rankell  gave  him  fifteen  minutes  in  the  little 
counting-room,  and  with  the  help  of  leading 
questions  elicited  the  main  facts  in  less  than 
five.  Then,  without  giving  any  opinion,  he 
asked  a  good  many  questions  of  detail :  where 
was  the  land,  what  was  the  price,  who  owned 
it,  and  so  on.  Having  informed  himself  on 
these  points,  playing  meantime  with  a  lead- 
pencil  and  a  sheet  of  paper,  he  abruptly  asked 
whether  that  was  the  whole  story. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  think  so.  What  had  I  better  do 
about  it?" 

"In  your  place,"  said  Rankell,  "  I  wouldn't 
touch  the  thing  with  a  ten-foot  pole." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Lottimer,  gratefully. 
"  That's  just  what  I  thought  myself." 

And  leaving  Rankell  busy  with  a  letter 
which  he  began  the  moment  he  uttered  his 
advice,  Mr.  Lottimer  withdrew.  He  wTas  re- 
lieved in  mind ;  prudence  was  certainly  the 
true  wisdom,  after  all. 


160  RankelVs  Remains. 

That  night  lie  told  William  Jones  that  he 
must  decline  the  opportunity  so  kindly  offered 
him  ;  and  William,  little  pleased,  took  the  night 
train  for  the  West,  in  search  of  somebodj'  enter- 
prising enough  to  grasp  a  fortune  once  placed 
in  his  hand. 


VII. 

Some  months  later  Mr.  Lottimer  read  in  his 
paper  that  there  was  great  excitement  in  Colo- 
rado. At  the  spot  of  which  Jones  had  spoken, 
silver  had  been  discovered  in  fabulous  quantities. 
A  company  was  organizing  to  develop  what 
bade  fair  to  be  the  richest  mines  in  America. 

So  William  had  been  right,  he  thought,  and 
timidity  had  lost  him  the  one  chance  of  his  life- 
time. If  he  had  listened  to  William,  Mrs.  Lot- 
timer  could  have  had  her  carriage,  and  poor  Joe 
might  have  stopped  handling  carpets,  and  Sadie 
might  have  gone  abroad  to  study.  He  had 
been  a  fool,  he  exclaimed  as  he  flung  down  the 
paper. 


TJte  Lottimers.  161 


"  Why,  father,"  asked  Mrs.  Lottimer,  "  what 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

There  was  no  longer  reason  for  secrecy,  he 
thought ;  the  matter  was  in  the  papers.  So  out 
he  came  with  the  whole  story  of  William  Jones's 
fruitless  errand.  Mrs.  Lottimer  listened  with 
despairing  shakes  of  the  head ;  Joe  sat  silent, 
as  usual;  Sadie,  it  happened,  was  gone  walk- 
ing with  a  young  gentleman. 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Mrs.  Lottimer  when 
the  story  was  told,  "  it  does  seem  dreadful ;  but 
I  s'pose  you  knew  what  was  best." 

Encouraged  by  this  declaration  of  confidence, 
Mr.  Lottimer  began  to  defend  himself.  After 
all,  they  knew  nothing  of  Jones's  success  beyond 
what  a  short  despatch  in  the  evening  paper 
told.  That  spoke  only  of  a  company  which  was 
going  to  develop  the  mine.  Everybody  knows 
"  there 's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip." 
Such  speculations  mostly  turn  out  badly  ;  they 
look  well  on  paper,  but  people  who  touch  them 
burn  their  fingers.  Besides,  Mr.  Rankell  had 
distinctly  disapproved  of  the  whole  thing. 
11 


162  RankelVs  Remains. 

To  the  Lottimers  the  word  of  Mr.  Rankell 
had  for  years  been  law ;  this  statement,  then, 
was  meant  to  be  final.  However  William 
might  prosper  for  the  moment,  he  was  sure, 
if  Mr.  Rankell  disapproved  of  his  proceedings, 
ultimately  to  come  to  grief.  And,  consoled  by 
this  thought,  Mr.  Lottimer  would  doubtless 
have  fallen  asleep  as  usual,  had  not  Joe  uttered 
an  astounding  remark. 

"  If  it  was  me,"  said  Joe,  "  I  'd  'a'  gone  dead 
against  what  Rankell  told  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  "  asked  his  father, 
sternly. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  said  Joe.  "  Rankell 
ain't  going  to  let  anybody  else  get  hold  of  any- 
thing when  he  's  there  to  grab  it." 

"Say  '  Mr.  Rankell,'  sir,"  commanded  Lottimer. 

"I'll  say  what  I  want  to,"  said  Joe. 

"  Why,  Joe,"  said  Mrs.  Lottimer,  "  that  ain't 
the  way  you  speak  to  your  father." 

"  I  ain't  speaking  to  father,"  said  Joe,  dog- 
gedly. "  I  'm  just  talking,  and  I  mean  to.  I  've 
kept  quiet  long  enough." 


The  Lottimers.  163 


"  You  shan't  say  another  word  about  Mr. 
Rankell,"  declared  Lottimer.  "  You  know  he  's 
the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world." 

"He  ain't  a  friend  of  mine,"  persisted  Joe, 
"  nor  of  anybody  else  at  the  store.  Oh,  I  'ra  stu- 
pid, I  know.  I  ain't  so  bright  as  other  folks. 
But  I  ain't  all  fool.  I  can  handle  carpets,  he 
says,  and  makes  me  do  it.  I  can't  help  myself; 
but  I  can  think  there  while  I  'm  rolling  and  un- 
rolling until  my  arms  are  half  pulled  out,  and 
no  chance  of  anything  better." 

"  If  you  were  fit  for  anything  better,"  burst 
out  Mr.  Lottimer,  "  you  'd  have  it." 

"  All  right.  I  ain't  fit  for  much.  I  don't  tum- 
ble on  my  feet,  I  don't.     I  tumble  on  my  head." 

"  So  he  does,  poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Lottimer,  by 
way  of  mediation,  "  and  gets  taken  up  for  dead.  " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  speak  unkindly,"  said  Mr. 
Lottimer,  relenting  at  the  thought  of  poor  Joe's 
mishaps. 

"  Who  thought  you  did  ?  "  said  Joe.  "  '  T ain't 
in  you.  It 's  you  just  as  much  as  me  that  makes 
me  mad  when   I   think  and   think,  rolling  and 


164  RankelVs  Remains. 

lifting.  It 's  slave,  slave,  both  of  us,  —  me  with 
my  hands,  and  you  with  your  head.  And  who 
gets  what  comes  of  it?  Rankell,  as  he  sits 
there  and  grins." 

44  Joe  is  n't  well,"  said  Mrs.  Lottimer,  anx- 
iously. Her  husband  looked  anxious  too ;  such 
talk  as  this  he  thought  insane. 

"  I  'm  as  well  as  they  '11  ever  let  me  be,"  said 
Joe.  "  I  'm  tired  out,  that 's  all,  —  tired  out 
working  for  him  that  never  says  a  kind  word 
or  anything  but  work,  work,  and  he  '11  take 
the  pay." 

44  Joseph,"  said  Mr.  Lottimer,  very  sternly, 
44  you  are  n't  so  strong  as  if  you  had  n't  had 
misfortunes,  and  that 's  all  that  keeps  me  from 
speaking  out  just  as  hard  as  I  know  how  to." 

44  That 's  you  all  over,"  put  in  Joe.  44  You 
ain't  hard  on  anybody." 

44 So  you  ain't,"  assented  Mrs.  Lottimer;  44it  ?s 
gospel  truth." 

44 1  try  and  do  men  justice,"  admitted  Mr. 
Lottimer.  44  But  I  want  to  say  this  once  for  all, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  it.     I  'm  older 


The  Lottimers.  165 


than  you  are,  Joseph,  and  I  've  seen  more  of  the 
world,  and  gone  through  more  than  I  hope 
you'll  ever  have  to.  And  what  I  say  now  I 
know.  The  best  friend  I  've  ever  had,  and  the 
best  friend  you  've  ever  had,  is  Mr.  Rankell." 

"  And  how  does  he  show  it  ?  "  interrupted 
Joe.  "  Making  us  work  and  taking  his  pay  for 
it  right  down  to  the  bottom.  And  now  when 
he  sees  you  getting  a  chance  to  make  a  little 
something  and  stand  on  your  own  legs,  he  says, 
*  Stop  right  there  and  don't  ask  why.'  And 
you  believe  him.      You  're  too  trusting  not  to." 

"  Go  to  bed,  sir !  "  roared  Mr.  Lottimer,  jump- 
ing up. 

"  Why,  father !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lottimer  in 
dismay. 

"  Go  to  bed,  sir !  "  repeated  Lottimer.  "  If 
you  say  another  word  I  shall  say  something  I 
shall  be  sorry  for." 

"  All  right,"  said  Joe,  doggedly.  And  he 
slouched  out  of  the  room,  leaving  his  father 
to  tramp  up  and  down  like  an  animal  in  the 
menagerie. 


166  RankelVs  Remains. 


VIII. 

The  storm  blew  over,  of  course.  Next  day 
everything  went  on  as  usual.  But  if  poor  Lot- 
timer's  tongue  was  at  rest,  his  thoughts  were 
not.  To  have  heard  Joe  express  these  wickeclhv 
mistaken  ideas  about  Mr.  Rank  ell,  which  he  had 
supposed  current  only  among  viciously  disposed 
people  quite  apart  from  his  own  little  world, 
affected  him  as  if  drunkenness  or  other  scanda- 
lous disorder  had  turned  up  in  the  house.  His 
system,  which  involved  the  moral  excellence  of 
his  immediate  surroundings,  was  upset ;  scep- 
ticism took  possession  of  him.  He  began  by 
wondering  what  ground  Joe  could  have  for 
holding  such  abominable  ideas ;  then  came 
questions  as  to  whether  there  might  not  con- 
ceivably be  grounds  for  holding  them.  And 
though  he  checked  such  questions  as  resolutely 
as  the  devout  check  fleshly  thoughts,  he  could  not 
get  rid  of  them.     So  he  was  very  unhappy. 

Meanwhile  he  thought  it  no  more  than  proper 


The  Lottimers.  16r 


to  write  William  Jones,  wishing  him  all  success 
in  the  enterprise  that  was  fairly  begun.  So  a 
letter  was  sent,  with  assurances  of  the  affection- 
ate regard  of  the  whole  Lottimer  family. 

A  fortnight  later  a  fat  envelope  directed  in 
a  scrawling  hand  to  J.  Lottimer,  arrived  from 
Colorado.  Wondering  why  William  had  writ- 
ten so  much,  Mr.  Lottimer  opened  the  envelope. 
There,  to  his  amazement,  he  found  his  own  let- 
ter, along  with  the  following  :  — 

J.  Lottimer  : 

Sir,  —  All  I  have  read  of  this  letter  is  the 
name  at  the  end.  I  don't  want  to  hear  from  you 
or  any  of  your  crowd.  If  there  's  anything  meaner 
than  giving  a  man  away,  it  is  trying  to  crawl  out 
of  it  as  I  suppose  you  've  tried  in  this  letter  of 
yours.  We  make  short  work  of  you  kind  of  men  out 
here,  sir. 

Truly  yours, 

W.  Jones. 

With  a  face  as  long  as  a  sermon  Mr.  Lotti- 
mer read  this  surprising  letter  to  his  wife. 
What  it  meant  neither  of  them  could  imagine. 


168  Rankell's  Remains. 

"  I  know,"  said  Sadie,  who  was  within  hear- 
ing. But  when  her  parents  turned  to  her  for 
explanation,  she  gave  no  more  than,  "  It  means 
he  's  mad.  — I  'm  real  glad  of  it,"  she  added,  as 
she  whisked  out  of  the  room  to  escape  the  wrath 
her  frivolity  would  have  brought  down  on  her. 
44  He  's  a  horrid  man." 

"  He  ain't,"  said  Joe,  who  was  sitting  by. 
44  He  's  square.  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  think  that 
letter  means.     It  means  Rankell." 

And  in  spite  of  Mr.  Lottimer's  angry  objec- 
tions, Joe  went  on  to  expound  why  he  thought 
it  meant  Rankell.  His  father  had  spoken  of 
Jones's  plan  to  nobody  else,  and  Rankell  always 
kept  his  eye  peeled  for  a  good  thing.  He  did 
n't  tell  folks  to  hold  back  for  nothing,  either. 
And  now  that  somebody  had  evidently  got 
ahead  of  William  Jones,  it  was  only  sense  to 
remember  that  Rankell  was  famous  for  getting 
ahead  of  everybody. 

Scold  as  he  might,  and  declare  as  he  might 
that  a  charge  dishonorable  to  Mr.  Rankell  was 
a  thing   he  would  not  listen  to,  Mr.  Lottimer 


The  Lottimers.  169 


could  not  help  feeling  that  Joe's  theory  sounded 
plausible.  Mr.  Rankell  was  his  best  friend,  he 
asserted  again  and  again  ;  he  would  not  listen 
to  one  of  these  shameful  words  about  such  a 
man.  But  all  the  time  the  shocking  things 
that  Joe  permitted  himself  to  say  stuck  in 
his  ears.  Finally  the  poor  man  began  to  feel 
that  nothing  could  set  his  mind  at  rest  short 
of  personal  assurances  from  his  employer  that 
all  this  wicked  talk  was  false.  And  in  the 
midst  of  his  angry  denials  he  secretly  deter- 
mined to  go  to  Mr.  Rankell  with  the  whole 
story.  Then,  with  Mr.  Rankell's  own  word 
to  back  him,  he  could  put  Joe  where  he  be- 
longed. If  the  boy's  damaged  head  was  open 
to  conviction,  he  could  shame  him  into  con- 
fessing that  these  notions  were  not  only  wicked 
but  insanely  mistaken. 

IX. 

When  the  time  came,  however,  for  putting 
this  plan  into  execution,  he  gave  it  up.     To  ad- 


170  RankelVs  Remains. 

dress  Mr.  Rankell  with  questions  concerning  his 
personal  honor  would  be  like  asking  a  woman  to 
give  account  of  her  reputation.  And  matters 
would  probably  have  rested  where  they  were, 
giving  rise  to  periodical  family  squabbles,  but 
for  a  very  trivial  accident.  This  was  no  more 
than  that  the  boy  who  made  press  copies  of 
Mr.  Rankell's  private  letters  happened  one 
morning  to  be  out  of  the  way ;  so,  to  save 
time,  Mr.  Lottimer  began  making  the  copies 
himself. 

Letter  after  letter  he  pulled  mechanically  off 
the  tissue  pages  where  they  had  left  their 
ghostly  images,  and  folding  them,  damp  and 
sticky,  addressed  them  with  no  thought  of 
where  they  were  going.  That  was  no  business 
of  his;  and  besides,  his  mind  was  busy  with 
other  matters.  He  was  a  good  deal  worried  by 
a  whispered  rumor,  in  which  he  devoutly  dis- 
believed, that  his  minister  was  growing  too 
fond  of  calling  on  a  lady  who  sang  in  the  choir. 
It  was  merely  by  chance,  then,  that  he  discov- 
ered himself  addressing  a  letter  to  the  town  in 


TJie  Lottimers.  171 


Colorado  where  William  Jones  had  found  his 
silver.  Of  course  he  had  no  right  to  draw  a 
conclusion  from  this  fact ;  Mr.  Rankell  had 
business  all  over  the  world.  Still  less  right 
had  he  to  read  the  letter  in  question,  —  a  pro- 
ceeding that  violated  private  correspondence  as 
much  as  if  he  had  broken  open  an  envelope 
in  Mr.  Rankell's  morning  mail.  But  Lottimer 
was  excited.  Without  an  instant's  reflection 
he  turned  back  a  page  of  the  private  letter- 
book  and  ran  his  eye  over  the  blurred  copy  of 
Rankell's  crabbed  manuscript  Then  he  seized 
the  envelope  he  had  just  sealed,  tore  that  open, 
and  with  short  breath  read  the  letter  he  pulled 
out ;  he  must  assure  himself  that  the  miserable 
machine  had  not  lied.  And  there,  sure  enough, 
he  read  some  dry  directions  concerning  the  very 
property  that  had  been  snatched  from  under  the 
nose  of  William  Jones. 

He  grasped  the  desk  beside  him,  and  stood 
swaying  to  and  fro. 

k'  My  God  !  "  he  heard  a  clerk  exclaim.  "  Look 
at  Lottimer! " 


172  RanhelVs  Remains. 

In  a  moment,  before  "he  could  regain  control 
of  himself,  a  dozen  clerks,  with  well-meant 
officiousness,  had  left  their  desks  and  run  to 
aid  him.  They  seized  his  arms,  asking  what 
was  the  matter ;  they  called  for  water  —  for  a 
doctor,  adding  to  the  misery  of  his  confusion. 

"Let  me  alone!  "  he  cried,  with  a  roughness 
they  had  never  seen  in  him  before.  "  Nothing 
is  the  matter.  I'm  old  enough  to  know  what 
I  'm  about.  Mind  your  business  and  I  '11  mind 
mine." 

Amid  this  hubbub  Rankell's  door  was  flung 
open,  and  the  little  man  appeared,  showing  his 
yellow  teeth  in  a  grin  of  anger. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked.  "What 
are  you  all  about  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Lottimer  —  "  began  half  a  dozen  clerks 
at  once. 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  me,"  said  Lottimer,  in  a  voice 
broken  by  excitement.  "  I  've  got  something  to 
say  to  you." 

"  Say  it,  then,"  snapped  out  Rankell,  "  and 
put  a  stop  to  this  racket." 


The  Lottimers.  173 


"  I  '11  say  it  to  you  alone,  sir,"  said  Lottimer. 
"  Come  into  your  office." 

The  clerks  stared.  No  one  had  ever  spoken 
so  to  Rankell  before. 

"Confound  you,  sir!"  cried  Rankell.  "You'll 
say  it  where  I  please." 

But  by  this  time  Lottimer  had  reached  the 
small  man's  side  and  taken  his  arm  in  a  grip 
that  meant  mischief.  Rankell  had  no  mind  for 
a  violent  scene. 

"  Go  to  your  desks,"  he  ordered  the  clerks, 
who  minded  him  like  well-trained  dogs.  tk  And 
you,  Lottimer,  come  with  me."  And  pretend- 
ing to  lead  the  way,  he  let  Lottimer  force  him 
into  the  inner  office  and  close  the  door. 

"  Let  me  go ! "  he  commanded,  the  moment 
the  door  was  closed. 

Lottimer  obeyed  ;  in  the  little  room  with  its 
bare  white  walls  and  its  one  desk  and  its  ticker 
the  force  of  habit  grew  stronger. 

Then  Rankell  sat  down  in  his  pivot  chair, 
wheeled  it  round  until  it  faced  Lottimer,  and 
glaring    at   the    unhappy    fellow    with    all    the 


174  RankelVs  Remains. 

auger  his  wrinkled  face  could  show,  snapped 
out :  "  Now,  sir,  what  the  devil  does  this 
mean  ?  " 

Lotlimer  stood  for  an  instant  with  his  brain 
in  a  whirl.  Then  he  held  out  the  letter  which 
he  had  kept  in  his  hand. 

"What  does  this  mean,  Mr.  Rankell?"  he 
asked  with  a  sob-like  gasp. 

Rankell  coolly  took  the  letter  and  glanced 
at  it. 

"  So  you  've  been  reading  my  correspon- 
dence ? "  he  said  coldly. 

Lottimer  stood  still.  His  mind  could  not 
work  so  fast.  He  had  expected  explanation : 
he  was  not  prepared  for  attack. 

"Why  don't  you  answer?"  asked  Rankell 
sharpty . 

"  I  saw  what  you  wrote  there,  sir.  I  could  n't 
believe  that  it  meant  —  " 

"  Ha  !  I  might  have  known  you  'd  be  at  these 
tricks.     Open  the  door  and  call  Murray." 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  Lottimer 
obeyed.    Murray  was  the  cashier.   In  he  came,  — - 


The  Lottimer  s.  175 


a  decent  man  with  gray  whiskers,  and  a  gold 
pen  stuck  behind  his  right  ear. 

"  Here,  Murray,"  said  Rankell,  "  take  this 
letter  and  have  one  of  the  boys  direct  it.  And 
draw  a  check  for  Mr.  Lottimer's  salary.  He 's 
been  prying  into  my  private  letters." 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir  ? "  asked  Murray, 
staring.  To  him,  as  to  all  in  the  office,  Lottimer 
had  been  as  inseparable  a  part  of  Rankell  as 
was  Rankell's  grin.  He  had  been  the  best  part 
of  Rankell,  too. 

"  Draw  a  check  for  Mr.  Lottimer's  salary. 
Can't  you  understand  the  English  language  ?  Go 
with  Murray,  Lottimer.    He'll  attend  to  you." 

"I  don't  understand  what  this  all  means, 
Mr.  Rankell,"   gasped   poor  Lottimer. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  said  Rankell.  "  I  '11  tell  you, 
then.  When  a  man  in  my  employ  violates  my 
correspondence,  I  give  him  a  month's  salary 
and  make  an  end  of  it.     Good-day." 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Lottimer,  foolishly. 

"Can't  you  understand  what  'good-day' 
means?"   said  Rankell.     "Go  with  Murray." 


176  RankelVs  Remains. 

He  pointed  to  the  door ;  Lottiraer  stag- 
gered out,  followed  by  Murray,  the  picture 
of  dismay. 

"  Shut  the  door,"  said  Rankell,  coolly.  And 
as  Murray  turned  to  shut  it  he  saw  his  em- 
ployer already  busy  with  the  paper  tape  that 
issued  from  his  ticker. 

Meanwhile  in  the  basement  stupid  Joe  was 
handling  carpets  as  he  had  handled  them  for 
years.  In  the  midst  of  his  work  some  one 
laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  turned  and 
saw  his  father,  pale  as  death,  and  wearing  his 
hat  and  coat. 

"  Joe,"  he  said  in  a  strange,  hard  voice, 
"  I  Ve  been  wrong.  He 's  all  you  said  he 
was;  and  when  I  asked  him  what  it  meant 
he  turned  me  off.  God  help  us !  "  And  poor 
Lottimer  broke  down  and  sobbed. 

Joe  gave  the  roll  of  carpet  a  kick. 

"Turned  you  off,  did  he?"  he  asked  in  his 
dull  way. 

"  Yes,  Joe,  turned  me  off  without  a  word." 

"Well,    father,"    said    Joe,    biting    a    bit   of 


The  Lottimers.  177 


cord  he  had  picked  up,  "  it 's  just  what  you 
might  'a'  looked  for.  He  's  nothing  but  a  grin- 
ning old  devil." 

"  God  help  us ! "  sobbed  Lottimer,  sitting 
on  the  roll  of  carpet. 

"  Don't  worry,  father,"  said  Joe.  "  I  '11  stick 
to  you.  Go  along  home."  And  he  stroked 
the  poor  fellow's  back  as  if  the  father  had 
been  the  helpless  one.  And  Joseph  Lottimer, 
with  a  tragic  look  of  misery,  rose  and  walked 
slowly  out  of  the  great  store,  leaning  heavily 
on  his  stick. 

Joe  sat  down  on  the  roll  of  carpet  and  bit 
the  cord  again  for  a  while. 

"Now  then,  Lottimer,"  cried  a  salesman, 
"  show  this  lady  number  sixteen  four  fifty- 
three." 

"Show  it  yourself,"  blurted  out  Joe,  and 
went  lumbering  out  of  the  room  amid  the 
amazement  of  his  superiors. 

He  walked  straight  to  the  counting-room, 
and  through  it  towards  Rankell's  office.  The 
clerks  stared  at  him,  whispering  among  them- 


178  RankelVs  Remav 


ins. 


selves.  As  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  door-knob, 
one  of  them  called  out  that  he  had  better  not 
go  in. 

"  Leave  me  alone  !  "  said  Joe,  roughly.  And 
opening  the  door  he  could  see  the  wizened 
little  man  scribbling  at  his  solitary  desk. 

As  Rankell  heard  Joe's  tread  he  turned, 
sharply  asking  who  was  there. 

Joe  stood  blinking  at  him. 

"I've  got  something  to  say  to  you,  Rankell." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Oh,  you  know.  I  'm  Joe  Lottimer,  that 's 
been  rolling  carpets  for  you." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here?" 

"  I  mean  this  —  Just  you  sit  still  if  you 
don't  want  a  hiding  —  You've  turned  off  my 
father  —  " 

4 '  Go  to  Murray,  sir.     Tell  him  to  pay  you." 

"I  don't  want  your  money.  Keep  it.  Much 
good  may  it  do  you.  I  've  quit  your  work  ; 
and  I've  only  got  just  one  thing  to  say  to 
you,  Rankell." 

"  I  won't  hear  you,  sir." 


TJie  Lottimer  s.  179 


"  Yes,  you  will.  It 's  this  :  Damn  you  !  " 
And  Joe  stood  for  a  moment  glaring  at  the 
frightened  little  creature  who  dared  not  stir  in 
the  presence  of  this  half-witted  giant.  Then  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turning  on  his  heel 
went  lumbering  out  of  the  great  store  after  his 
father. 

X. 

In  this  tale  concerning  Rankell  there  is  no 
need  to  tell  in  detail  Mr.  Lottimer's  efforts  to 
shift  for  himself.  It  is  enough  to  know  that 
after  vainly  trying  for  some  other  place,  which 
for  want  of  a  good  word  from  his  old  employer 
he  could  never  find,  he  finally  opened,  in  the 
suburb  where  he  lived,  a  small  shop.  For  a 
while  this  enterprise,  which  required  all  the 
money  he  had  saved,  went  well.  Joe  was  all 
help,  and  so  was  Mrs.  Lottimer,  who,  with  an 
air  of  dignity,  consented  to  wait  on  the  counter. 
Mr.  Lottimer  would  have  liked  Sadie  to  help 
too,  but  she  resolutely  declined.  She  did  n't 
mean  to  be  a  shop-girl,  she  declared  ;  whatever 


180  RankelVs  Remains. 

happened  she  could  do  better  than  that.  Sure 
enough,  she  did ;  somehow  she  got  a  place  in 
a  city  choir,  and  so  moved  to  town,  where, 
to  do  her  justice,  she  asked  no  help  from  her 
father.  He  had  to  hire  help  in  her  place, 
though,  and  wages  came  hard. 

For  a  time,  as  I  have  said,  Mr.  Lottimer's 
shop  prospered.  Everybody  in  the  town  knew 
him,  and  as  no  secret  was  made  of  his  story  he 
had  general  sympathy.  But  sympathy  is  one 
thing  and  common -sense  another;  so  when 
people  began  to  find  that  in  spite  of  Mr.  Lotti- 
mer's efforts  to  keep  prices  down  he  could  not 
contrive  to  sell  as  cheaply  as  the  great  city 
stores,  or  indeed  as  one  or  two  of  his  competi- 
tors, who  were  suspected  to  have  an  under- 
standing with  city  dealers,  his  custom  fell 
off.  There  was  trouble  about  credit,  too  ;  he 
found  the  effort  to  manage  business  for  him- 
self very  different  from  managing  it  under 
another  man's  direction.  Joe  would  mind,  but 
he  could  not  advise;  neither  could  Mrs.  Lotti- 
mer;    neither   could    what   assistants   he   could 


Tfie  Lottimers.  181 


hire.  In  the  end  he  closed  his  shop  pretty 
nearly  insolvent. 

About  this  time  an  unexpected  opening  ap- 
peared. In  the  course  of  his  work  at  RankelFs 
Mr.  Lottimer  had  come  to  know  some  Govern- 
ment officials.  One  of  these,  hearing  of  his 
troubles,  and  valuing  Rankell's  conduct  at  what 
it  was  worth,  procured  him  a  small  appointment 
in  the  Custom  House.  This  he  gratefully  ac- 
cepted. He  sold  the  house  where  he  had  lived 
since  the  children  were  little,  and  moved  to 
town,  where  he  decided  that  a  tenement  of 
the  better  sort  was  quite  good  enough  for  the 
present  state  of  his  fortunes. 

Joe,  who  stuck  by  his  father  so  long  as  he 
could  help,  now  bravely  tried  to  take  care  of 
himself,  and  finding  no  better  chance,  was  will- 
ing to  earn  what  he  could  by  working  along 
shore.  Here  his  strength  stood  him  in  good 
stead,  but  at  the  same  time  excited  ill-feeling 
among  fellow-laborers  who  could  not  lift  as 
much  as  he.  His  temper,  too,  docile  enough  at 
home,  sometimes  got  the  better  of  him  abroad ; 


182  MankeU's  Remains. 

and  once  or  twice  his  difficulties  with  envious 
fellows  who  made  game  of  his  slow  wits  re- 
sulted in  a  free  fight.  At  last  he  had  a  six- 
months'  sentence  for  half-killing  a  comrade  in  a 
brawl.  It  was  the  saddest  day  of  Joseph  Lotti- 
mer's  life  when  he  went  to  see  his  son  in  jail. 
He  went  with  his  heart  full  of  anger ;  but 
when  he  found  poor  Joe  blubbering  out  that  it 
was  only  for  father's  sake  he  was  glad  he  had  not 
killed  the  fellow,  who  began  the  row  by  calling 
him  a  vile  name,  Lottimer's  heart  softened. 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  he  said.  "  It 's  your  misfortune, 
not  your  fault." 

And  for  all  Joe's  roughness,  he  was,  even  as 
a  jail-bird,  as  good  a  son  as  he  knew  how  to  be. 

Sadie,  meantime,  was  doing  well  with  her 
music.  Besides  her  choir-work  she  had  pupils, 
who  obliged  her  to  live  in  a  better  way  than  the 
rest  of  the  family,  and  to  spend  so  much  for 
clothes  that  there  was  nothing  left  for  anybody 
else.  Occasionally,  too,  she  had  a  chance  to 
sing  at  private  concerts.  It  was  at  one  of  these 
that  I  first  saw  her. 


The  Lottlmers.  183 


The  concert,  indeed,  was  the  same  at  which 
Anna  Wyborne  failed  to  make  an  impression, 
and  it  was  Sadie  who  overshadowed  her.  Sadie 
wore  a  pink  dress  with  a  long  train,  very  effec- 
tive at  a  distance ;  and  with  a  monstrous  bush 
of  blond  hair  frizzled  over  her  forehead,  and 
with  things  that  looked  like  diamonds  in  her 
ears,  and  with  a  suspiciously  brilliant  complex- 
ion, she  looked,  as  Tom  Henderson  was  heard 

to  whisper,  "  pretty ■  handsome."    She  sang 

with  a  reckless  jollit}-,  quite  different  from 
the  staidly  correct  fashion  of  pale  Anna.  Every- 
body knew  it  was  in  bad  taste,  but  everybody 
liked  it.  After  she  had  finished,  Tom,  who 
somehow  knew  her,  made  his  way  to  her  side. 
She  received  him  with  a  saucy  little  incline  of 
the  head  to  the  left ;  as  she  talked  with  him  she 
did  not  scruple  to  make  eyes  over  her  big  fan  at 
other  admirers.  And  long  after  Anna  had  gone 
home  with  a  faint  heart,  Miss  Sadie  kept  her 
carriage  waiting,  while  she  sat  in  the  dining-room 
with  Tom  and  others  of  his  kind,  amid  a  profusion 
of  champagne  and  needlessly  loud  laughter. 


184  RankelVs  Remains. 


XL 

Mr.  Lottimer  worked  faithfully ;  he  was 
among  the  first  at  his  desk  and  the  last  to  leave 
it.  But  when  it  came  to  the  unwritten  services 
on  which  the  tenure  of  such  a  place  as  his  de- 
pends, he  was  found  wanting.  Politically  he  was 
useless.  One  day,  then,  he  was  notified  that  his 
services  were  no  longer  needed.  Some  politi- 
cian, I  suppose,  wanted  his  desk  for  a  worker. 

The  day  this  news  came  he  attended  to  his 
duties  with  an  absent  air,  now  and  then  fetching 
a  deep  breath.  He  did  not  tell. his  fellow-clerks 
what  had  happened  ;  nor  did  he  say  anything 
of  it  when  he  came  home  with  no  appetite  for 
his  unsavory  dinner.  But  after  dinner,  instead 
of  sleeping,  as  was  still  his  habit,  he  took  his 
hat  and  stick,  and  professing  that  he  had  busi- 
ness, passed  out  into  the  dark.  Two  or  three 
hours  had  passed  before  he  came  home  ;  then  he 
was  ready  enough  to  tell  on  what  business  he  had 
gone,  and  what  had  happened  to  him  meantime. 


The  Lottimers.  185 


XII. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  for  one  last  effort,  — 
the  only  hope  he  saw.  So  he  resolutely  walked 
up  the  lamplit  streets  until  he  came  to  the 
plain  brown-stone  house  where  Rankell  lived. 
There  he  rang  the  bell,  and  timidly  —  for  to  him 
the  man-servant  in  a  white  cravat  was  an  awful 
being  —  asked  for  Mr.  Rankell.  Mr.  Rankell, 
the  man  said,  could  never  be  disturbed  of  an 
evening.  But  Lottimer  insisted.  Relenting  a 
little,  the  man  inquired  if  he  had  an  appoint- 
ment. No  ;  but  his  business  was  important, 
and  would  take  only  a  very  few  minutes.  In 
the  end  the  fellow  was  teased  into  taking  his 
name  to  Rankell ;  and  Lottimer  was  left  stand- 
ing in  the  hall,  where  the  sentiments  with  which 
for  the  better  part  of  his  life  he  had  regarded 
the  owner,  arose  to  prevent  him  from  sitting 
uninvited  in  one  of  the  empty  chairs. 

That  evening  Rankell  must  have  been  in 
a  benevolent  mood.     Any  one   who  knew  the 


186  RankelVs  Rema 


ins. 


circumstances  would  have  given  odds  that  his 
answer  to  Lottimer's  request  would  be  a  curt 
refusal  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him.     In- 
stead of  this,  the  servant  came  back  with  mended 
manners,  asking  Mr.  Lottimer  if  he  would  have 
the  kindness  to  walk  upstairs.     So,  hat  in  hand, 
he  followed  the  man  up  the  red-carpeted  stairs, 
to  a  kind  of  library  smelling  of  stale  cigar-smoke. 
Here,  beside  a  large  walnut  table  on  which  a 
droplight  stood    amid  a  loose    pile   of   evening 
papers,    sat   Mr.    Rankell.      As  was   his    habit 
when  reading,  his  glasses  were  half-way  down 
his  nose;    and   he   looked   over   them   at   Lot- 
timer  with  the  venerable    air   that  was   grow- 
ing habitual    when    he    was  not  busy  with  his 
trade.     His  long  upper  lip,  unshaven  since  the 
morning,  closed  more  feebly  than  it  used  to; 
and  in    the  gaslight  his  yellow  hair  and  beard 
looked  white. 

This  unexpected  benevolence  of  aspect  made 
his  welcome  less  strange.  Without  rising  he 
held  out  his  hand. 

"Glad   to   see   you,   Mr.  Lottimer,"  lie  said 


The  Lottimer  s.  187 


rather  slowly.  In  all  ways,  Lottimer  thought, 
Rankell  seemed  older  than  he  should  have  be- 
lieved possible.  "  Sit  down,  sir.  How  does  the 
world  treat  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Lottimer  with  diffi- 
dence, "  times  are  pretty  hard  just  now." 

"  Sho  !  "  said  Rankell,  almost  sympathetically. 
44  Sorry  to  hear  that.    You  don't  smoke,  do  you? " 

4t  No,  sir.     Much  obliged,"  said  Lottimer. 

Rankell,  taking  up  a  half-finished  cigar  that 
lay  extinguished  on  the  edge  of  the  table, 
proceeded,  with  the  aid  of  a  charred  match 
which  he  kindled  in  the  flame  of  the  droplight, 
to  relight  it.  Then  puffing  out  with  a  slight 
effort  a  white  cloud  of  strong-smelling  smoke,  he 
looked  at  Lottimer  again  over  his  glasses,  as  if 
pondering  some  significant  speech. 

44  Well,  sir,"  he  said  after  a  little  pause,  a  and 
how  do  you  do  ?     And  the  family  ?  " 

44  Pretty  well,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Lottimer, 
fingering  his  hat. 

44  That's  right,"  said  Rankell.  44  Health 's  a 
great  blessing,  sir." 


188  EanhelVs  Re 


emains. 


These  amenities,  in  themselves  agreeable, 
were  by  no  means  what  Lottimer  had  looked  for. 
Xor  was  either  of  the  gentlemen  sufficiently  used 
to  purely  social  intercourse  to  find  the  situation 
quite  easy.  So,  after  a  preliminary  cough, 
Lottimer  boldly  started  off. 

"  I  supposed  you  might  think  it  peculiar  in 
me  to  come  here,  Mr.  Rankell,"  he  began. 

"  Well,  yes,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  "  I  was  kind  of 
surprised  when  I  heard  you  were  downstairs." 

"  It  was  n't  an  easy  thing  for  me  to  do,  Mr. 
Rankell." 

"All  the  more  credit  to  you  for  doing  it,  sir. 
I  'ni  real  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Lottimer.  It 
shows  there  's  no  ill-feeling ;  and  when  a  man 
gets  to  be  my  age,  sir,  that 's  pleasant  news." 

This  turn  of  the  conversation  was  unexpected. 
Lottimer  shifted  uneasily  in  his  seat. 

"I  ought  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Rankell,"  he  said, 
"that  I've  felt  hard." 

44  So  have  I,  sir,"  retorted  Rankell,  more 
sharply  than  before. 

44  And  I  've  said  hard  things,  sir." 


The  Lottimer  s.  189 


"  Well,  they  have  n't  hurt  me,  sir.     I  guess  I 
can  stand  all  that  folks  want  to  say." 

44  But  there   were   a  good   many   years,   Mr. 
Rankell,  when  you  and  I  were  good  friends." 
44  So  there  were,  Mr.  Lottimer." 
44  And,  if  I  do  say  it,  I  served  you  well,  sir." 
44  Yes ;    you  did.     If  I  was  a  younger  man, 
Mr.  Lottimer,  I  don't  know  just  how  I  should 
feel.     But  I'm  getting  on  in  years,  and  I  find 
it 's  the  old  times  that  take  hold  of  me  the  most. 
That 's  why  it  pleased   me,  sir,  to   find  you  'd 
come  ready  to  say  let  bygones  be  bygones." 

44 1  'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Rankell ; 
I  feel  that  way  too,  sir.  And  there  are  times 
when  I  begin  to  think  myself  that  the  right 
wasn't  all  on  my  side." 

44 1  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by  that," 
said  Rankell,  sharply. 

44  Why,  sir,"  said  Lottimer,  simply,  4'  the 
whole  trouble  began  when  I  told  you  what  I  'd 
promised  not  to  tell  anybody,  and  —  " 

44  See  here,  Lottimer.  What  did  you  come 
for?      If  it   was   to   fight,   the  sooner  you  go 


190  RankdVs  Remains. 

the  better.  I  've  got  enough  of  that  every 
day  without  starting  up  with  you  all  over 
again." 

"  God  knows,  sir,"  said  poor  Lottimer,  "I've 
no  wish  to  fight." 

"  Well,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean,  then,  by 
talking  this  way  ?  " 

"What  way,  sir?" 

"  As  if  you  did  n't  know  you  were  the  only 
man  I  ever  played  fool  with.  I  might  have 
known  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  I 
should  catch  you  at  tricks  that  ought  to  have 
sent  you  to  jail  —  " 

"  Mr.  Rankell,"  interrupted  Lottimer,  "  I  'm 
a  poor  man,  and  in  a  bad  way,  but  I've  got 
self-respect,  sir  —  " 

"  Confound  your  self-respect !  "  snapped  out 
Rankell.     "  What  do  you  want  here  ?  " 

Which  question  brought  poor  Lottimer  to  his 
bearings. 

"  Just  this,  sir,"  he  began  humbly  enough. 
Then  he  went  on  to  tell,  with  much  prolixity, 
how  ill  his  affairs  had  gone,  and  how  at  last  his 


The  Lottimers.  191 


little  place  in  the  Customs  service  was  taken 
from  him. 

Rankell  listened  impatiently.  "  Well,  what 's 
all  this  got  to  do  with  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Rankell,"  said  Lot-timer,  "  if  there  was 
anywhere  else  to  turn  I  wouldn't  come  to  you. 
But  I  don't  know  any  one  else  to  help  me." 

"  Help  you!  You  don't  want  me  to  take  you 
back,  I  hope." 

"  No,  sir.  That  would  n't  do  for  me  even  if 
it  would  for  you." 

"  That's  lucky,"  interposed  Rankell. 

"  But  I  did  hope,  sir,  that  you  would  n't  mind 
speaking  a  word  for  me  to  the  collector." 

This  word  might  have  meant  much,  for  Ran- 
kell was  high  in  the  councils  of  the  party  in 
power.  And  Rankell,  knowing  this,  pursed  his 
lips,  and  thoughtfully  rising  relighted  his  cigar, 
which  had  gone  out  again.  Lottimer,  mean- 
time, sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  heard 
thumping  heart-beats  which  curiously  mingled 
with  the  faint  ticking  of  a  French  clock  on  the 
chimney-piece. 


192  RankelVs  Remains. 

"  Look  here,  Lottimer,"  said  Rankell  at  last, 
"  I  'm  a  fair  man." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  assented  Lottimer,  hardly  know- 
ing what  he  said. 

"  And  I  don't  forget  that  before  you  took 
to  your  tricks,"  went  on  Rankell,  44  you  did 
good  work  for  me." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Lottimer. 

44  Well,  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you  in 
justice  to  myself,  I  'd  do  it." 

44  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Lottimer,  whose  heart 
began  to  bound  with  hope. 

44  Bat  I  can't  ;  so  there  's  an  end  of  it." 

44  Can't,  sir?     Why  not?" 

« Why,  look  here,  Lottimer ;  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  I  've  got  more  men  in  my 
employ  than  any  dozen  could  look  after  prop- 
erly. Well,  if  they  should  find  out  that  I  was 
read}'  to  begin  the  forget-and-forgive  business 
with  a  man  that  violated  confidence  like  you, 
where  should  I  be?   No,  sir ;  it  can't  be  done." 

Poor  Lottimer  stammered  something  about 
his  family. 


The  Lottimers.  193 


"  Well,  sir,"  said  Rankell,  calmly,  uit's  your 
family,  not  mine.  Time  was  when  you  had  a 
chance  to  support  them  honestly." 

"Mr.  Rankell,"  exclaimed  Lottimer  rising, 
amazed  at  himself,  "  I  have  supported  them 
honestly,  and  you  know  it!" 

"I  don't  know  anything  of  the  kind,  sir. 
I  know  why  I  turned  you  off.  That  didn't 
look  very  honest." 

"  Mr.  Rankell,"  said  Lottimer,  solemnly,  "  you 
know,  and  I  know,  sir,  which  of  us  two  is  the 
honest  man." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  cried  Rankell, 
in  a  rage. 

"  I  mean  this,  sir :  I  'm  a  broken  man,  and 
a  poor  one  ;  and  what 's  coming  to  me  now,  and 
to  my  wife,  and  to  my  boy  working  like  a  black 
slave,  and  to  my  little  girl —  " 

"  Aged  twenty -three  or  so,"  snarled  Rankell, 
"  and  going  on  the  stage,  I  hear." 

"What's  coming  to  us,"  went  on  Lottimer, 
44  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  But  whatever  comes, 
sir,  I  can  look  men  in  the  face.     For  I  know, 

13 


194  RankelVs  Remains. 

and  you  know,  and  God  knows,  Mr.  Rankell, 
whose  tricks  it's  owing  to." 

"  He  does,  does  He  ?  "  grinned  Rankell,  show- 
ing all  his  yellow  teeth  ;  "  then  He  knows  this, 
sir :  you  've  made  your  bed,  and  you  've  got 
to  lie  in  it." 

XIII. 

So,  with  broken  hopes,  but  knowing  more 
clearly  than  ever  which  was  the  better  man, 
Joseph  Lottimer  made  his  way  home.  There 
he  found  his  wife,  who  was  growing  very 
querulous  ;  Sadie  had  happened  in,  too,  and  was 
picking  a  quarrel  with  dirty  Joe,  who  sprawled 
on  the  sofa. 

Still  full  of  excitement  he  told  them  what 
had  happened. 

Mrs.  Lottimer  whined  an  accompaniment  to 
his  recital.  It  was  too  much  to  bear ;  they 
should  end  in  the  poor-house.  Mighty  little 
she  could  do  to  help  along,  now  that  sew- 
ing was  paid  so  low.     She  had  done  her  best. 


The  Lottimers.  195 


If  other  folks  had  done  theirs  she  did  n't  see 
how  they  could  have  come  to  all  this  trouble. 

"  Well,  pa,"  said  Sadie,  "you  used  to  say 
that  where  there  's  a  will  there  's  a  way.  Ain't 
that  true  any  more  ?  " 

But  Joe,  sprawling  with  half-closed  eyes,  kept 
growling  out,  "  Damn  him  !  I  wish  I  'd  killed 
him.     I  had  the  chance." 

Mr.  Lottimer,  still  rather  exalted,  kept  say- 
ing that  whatever  came  he  could  hold  up  his 
head.  There  was  nothing  in  his  life  to  be 
ashamed  of.     And  for  that  he  thanked  God. 

Then,  after  a  while,  feeling  drowsy,  he  kissed 
his  thin  wife,  who  made  some  motion  of  discon- 
tent at  the  touch  of  his  lips ;  and  crossing 
infirmly  to  where  Sadie  sat  he  bent  over  and 
kissed  her  forehead,  she  taking  little  heed  of 
him  the  while.  But  when  Joe  wrung  his  hand, 
the  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  worry,  my  boy,"  he  said  kindly  ;  "  we 
will  sleep  on  it.  Things  will  look  brighter  in 
the  morning." 

And  so  he  went  to  bed. 


196  RankelVs  Remains. 


XIV. 

In  the  morning  there  came  a  great  scream- 
ing from  the  room  where  the  old  couple  slept ; 
and,  hurrying  thither,  the  people  in  the  house 
found  Mrs.  Lottmier  leaning  over  her  husband 
and  crying  out  very  loud.  Speak  to  her,  she 
begged  him.  It  was  she,  Rhoda,  —  Rhoda, 
whom  he  saved  in  the  old  days,  —  Rhoda,  who 
loved  him.  She  had  been  wicked,  ungrateful. 
She  would  never  be  so  again.  And  resting  her 
head  on  his  breast  she  kept  moaning  out  his 
name,  "  Joe  !  Joe  !  " 

But  he  made  no  answer  ;  for,  as  years  be- 
fore the  mother  he  cared  for  so  well  had 
fallen  asleep  never  to  wake  again,  so  now  had 
he.  And  he  lay  there  with  a  look  of  rest  on 
his  pale  face.  And  this  was  all  that  most  who 
came  thither  saw. 

But  some,  who  were  near  Joe,  saw  too  that 
there  was  something  more  than  grief  in  his  heavy 
face  as,  shaken  with  sobs,  he  looked  at  his  dead 


The  Lottimers.  197 


father.  And  they  wondered  among  themselves 
what  he  meant  when  he  grumbled,  not  caring 
who  might  hear,  that  this  was  murder. 


XV. 

There  is  very  little  more  to  tell.  The  clerks 
in  the  Custom  House  surprised  Mrs.  Lottimer 
by  sending  an  elegant  floral  tribute  to  the  fu- 
neral ;  still  more  to  her  surprise,  another  came 
from  the  employees  of  Rankell's,  who  had  known 
Joseph  Lottimer  so  long.  But  having  thus  ex- 
hausted what  tangible  sympathy  was  in  them, 
these  thoughtful  friends  troubled  themselves 
no  further  about  the  family  he  left  behind 
him,  and  soon  could  not  tell  what  had  become 
of  them. 

For  a  while  Sadie  was  willing  to  give  part  of 
her  earnings  to  her  mother;  but  as  these  fell 
off,  she  found  she  needed  all  for  herself.  Then 
poor  Joe  could  not  earn  enough  to  help  much, 
for  times  were  growing  hard  and  work  scarce. 
At  last  William  Jones,  who  began  somehow  to 


198  MankelVs  Remains. 

prosper  in  the  West,  had  word  of  his  sister's 
hardship  ;  so,  with  the  benevolent  condition  that 
he  should  never  hear  her  name  again,  he  bought 
her  a  place  in  an  Old  Ladies'  Home,  where  she 
querulously  went  to  her  end.  And  Joe  and 
Sadie,  after  a  while,  were  quite  lost  to  sight. 


XVI. 

This,  then,  is  the  story  concerning  Rankell 
that  my  friend  the  doctor,  who  had  known  the 
Lottimers  in  their  country  home,  told  me,  in  his 
graphic  way,  over  our  spirits  and  water.  And 
I  have  written  it  down,  as  nearly  as  might  be, 
in  the  manner  in  which  he  told  it. 


IV. 
THE    CONVENTION. 


'  I  ^HE  last  of  my  three  stories  is  different 
from  the  others.  Those  have  told  how 
Rankell  dealt  with  private  men  whose  path 
crossed  his.  This  last,  which  perhaps  may  be 
hardly  called  a  story  at  all,  shows  him  dealing 
no  longer  with  this  man  or  that,  but  with  those 
great  masses  we  call  the  people. 

I  am  no  politician.  I  have  little  familiarity 
with  the  life  of  which  I  must  here  give  a 
glimpse.  I  have  wondered  more  than  once 
whether  the  wiser  course  were  not  to  leave 
this  part  of  Rankell's  story  untold.  But  with- 
out it  I  cannot  show  all  that  Rankell  means  to 
me.  So  here  I  shall  set  down,  as  best  I  may, 
what  in  the  last  years  of  his  life  Rankell  had 
grown  to  be  among  those  to  whom  he  was  little 
more  than  a  name. 


202  RankelVs  Remains. 


II. 

It  is  now  several  years  since  the  Hon.  Wil- 
liam D.  Cox  was  a  prominent  candidate  for 
the  Presidency.  By  this  time,  I  dare  say,  he  is 
half  forgotten.  In  war  days,  however,  he  was 
a  famous  member  of  Congress,  where  he  first 
appeared  as  a  poor  man.  With  no  other  means 
of  support  than  his  office  afforded  he  grew  rich. 
Before  long,  then,  he  naturally  advanced  to  the 
Senate,  where  his  career  was  much  what  it  had 
been  in  the  House.  In  general  legislation  he 
took  no  leading  part ;  his  record  had  no  spots 
that  change  of  public  opinion  might  weaken ; 
but  now  and  then  he  would  deliver  himself  of 
what  his  admirers  called  a  ringing  speech  in 
favor  of  some  popular  cry.  Thus  he  became 
popular  among  the  utterers  of  such  cries.  At 
the  same  time  his  undoubted  good-fellowship 
made  him  a  host  of  friends  who  maintained 
with  truth  that  there  was  no  better  diner-out 
in  America.     And  people  who  had  irons  for  the 


The   Convention.  203 


fire  of  legislation  were  unanimous  in  the  opinion 
that  the  Hon.  William  D.  Cox  was  among  the 
greatest  of  living  statesmen. 

What  with  his  popularity  and  his  friends 
and  his  money,  it  is  not  strange  that  he  grew 
anxious  to  crown  his  career  with  a  term  or  two 
in  the  White  House.  With  becoming  modesty, 
then,  he  caused  it  to  be  heralded  in  the  numer- 
ous papers  at  his  command  that  he  had  retired 
from  public  life  to  pass  his  remaining  years 
in  study  at  the  beautiful  home  his  mysterious 
wealth  had  bought ;  and  thereupon  his  friends 
went  trooping  to  a  Western  city  where  a  Na- 
tional Convention  was  to  be  held. 

Just  at  this  time  affairs  called  me  thither,  and 
there  I  was  compelled  to  stay  throughout  the 
Convention.  The  prospect  offered  little  pleas- 
ure. Like  many  of  my  fellow-citizens,  I  held 
that  in  the  prevailing  lack  of  political  issues  the 
coming  nomination  had  no  importance.  The 
election  itself  would  decide  little  more  than 
who  should  have  great  dinners  at  Washington, 
and  who  should  spend  a  pretty  fortune  in  Lou- 


204  RanhelVs  Remains. 

don  or  Berlin,  and  who  should  handle  the  mails 
in  this  or  that  country  post-office.  To  me,  then, 
the  National  Convention,  which  overcrowded 
my  hotel,  presented  itself  as  little  else  than  a 
personal  annoyance. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  among  the  motley 
crowd  of  political  people  who  elbowed  me  at 
table  I  met  my  friend  Bobbins.  He  was  a  del- 
egate, it  appeared,  and,  bothered  by  his  un- 
wonted occupation,  had  been  looking  every- 
where for  what  he  called  a  white  man  he  could 
blow  off  steam  to.  For  this  purpose  he  deemed 
me  suitable ;  he  began  forthwith  to  deliver  him- 
self of  much  pent-up  feeling  that  I  failed  at 
first  to  share ;  wherefore  he  upbraided  me  as 
highly  unpatriotic. 

This  Robbins  was  a  man  of  easy  fortune  who 
in  his  youth  studied  law.  He  never  practised, 
chiefly,  I  suspect,  because  during  the  early 
years  when  he  still  had  an  office  his  friends 
assumed  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  troubled 
with  business.  So  in  a  private  way  he  turned 
his  attention  to  public  matters,  and  won  in  time 


The  Convention. 


the  reputation  of  a  thoughtful  writer  who  be- 
lieved what  he  wrote.  He  never  held  office  ; 
even  his  admirers  deemed  him  a  trifle  too 
much  of  an  idealist  for  practical  life.  But  by 
keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  whoever  was  in  office 
he  had  long  ago  attained  a  position  that  made 
him  when  a  moral  question  arose  in  politics 
one  of  its  natural  representatives. 

At  this  moment  such  a  question  had  arisen. 
Members  of  the  dominant  party  who  disapproved 
the  career  of  the  Hon.  William  D.  Cox  had 
not  been  idly  watching  what  was  described  as 
the  growth  of  his  boom.  Black  sheep,  they 
admitted,  had  been  suffered  before  this  to  stray 
into  the  White  House,  but  none  so  black  as 
he.  Now  was  the  time,  they  loudly  said,  for 
honest  men  to  assert  themselves.  The  country 
must  not  be  dishonored  by  placing  at  its  head 
a  clever  trickster  whose  career  on  a  smaller 
scale  would  have  been  punished  as  crimi- 
nal. We  must  assert  ideals.  We  must  teach 
a  lesson  to  those  who  preach  that  the  whole 
political  duty  of  man  is  to  follow  your  leader, 


206  RankdVs  Remains. 

no  matter  who  he  be  nor  whither  he  go.  Ac- 
cordingly there  had  been  more  discussion  in 
caucuses  than  political  workers  liked.  And  in 
the  end  a  good  many  delegates  went  West  with 
the  avowed  purpose  of  asserting  such  moral  pre- 
cepts as  were  taught  us  in  youth  with  no  notion 
that  we  should  think  of  putting  them  in  practice. 

Among  these  delegates  Kobbins  was  promi- 
nent. And  most  of  the  steam  which  he  began 
blowing  off  to  me  consisted  in  such  extrava- 
gantly ideal  parts  of  their  creed  as  practical  wis- 
dom counselled  him  to  keep  from  the  people 
among  whom  he  was  come  to  do  serious  work. 
It  was  scandalous,  he  asserted  before  long,  that 
an  educated  man  like  me  should  listen  with  so 
languid  interest. 

The  truth  was,  I  said,  that  I  knew  little 
about  such  matters.  Well,  that  was  equally 
scandalous,  he  thought.  An  intelligent  citizen 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  behaving  under  such 
circumstances  as  these  like  a  country  minister 
at  a  horse-race.  He  had  no  idea  of  letting  this 
go  on. 


The   Convention.  207 


"Now  that  I  'm  in  politics,"  he  continued,  "  I 
feel  bound  by  custom  to  be  of  use  to  my  friends  ; 
and  the  most  useful  thing  I  can  do  for  you  is 
to  make  you  feel  like  an  American." 

Accordingly  he  somehow  secured  me  a  seat 
on  the  speaker's  platform,  where  I  could  see 
and  hear  the  Convention  from  beginning  to  end. 
With  this  prospect,  and  Robbins's  incessant 
talk,  I  grew  interested  in  what  was  doing  about 
me  ;  and  thus  unexpectedly  I  came  to  know 
what  gave  me  my  last  impressions  of  Rankell. 

III. 

Rankell,  it  appeared,  was  come  West,  as  the 
phrase  went,  "to  boom  Cox."  The  little  man 
always  kept  clear  of  active  politics ;  he  showed 
no  ambition  outside  of  his  business.  But  now 
and  then,  though  he  wanted  no  office,  he  ap- 
peared—  sitting  on  platforms,  and  subscribing 
handsomely  to  campaign  funds  —  as  a  stalwart 
member  of  a  party  whose  policy  helped  fill  his 
pockets.     Now,  he  was  so  eager  a  supporter  of 


208  RanhelVs  Remains. 

Cox,  that  in  view  of  the  rising  opposition  he 
had  consented  to  come  as  a  delegate  to  the  Con- 
vention. For  Cox  personally,  to  be  sure,  there 
was  no  reason  to  suppose  he  cared  a  fig ;  but 
the  astute  statesman  had  pledged  himself  to 
recommend  certain  acts  which,  however  they 
might  affect  the  country  at  large,  were  sure 
favorably  to  affect  the  purses  of  Rankell  and 
others  of  his  kind. 

"Of  course  the  President  doesn't  legislate," 
said  Robbins,  "  but  American  citizens  rarely 
stop  to  remember  that  constitutional  truth ; 
and  there  's  no  denying  that  the  President  has 
a  great  moral  effect.  That 's  why  Rankell 
wants  Cox.     It 's  also  what  I  'm  here  for." 

The  first  I  saw  of  Rankell  in  the  West,  how- 
ever, was  in  no  political  character.  I  happened 
one  afternoon  to  be  walking  with  Robbins  about 
the  cit}r  that  daily  grew  more  crowded ;  for 
delegates  and  the  like  came  by  every  train 
to  swell  the  numbers  that  commonly  scurried 
about.  It  was  a  city  of  endless  straight  streets 
crossing  one  another  at  right  angles,  and  lined 


The    Convention.  209 


as  far  as  you  could  see  with  clumsy  structures  of 
stone  or  iron  covered  with  gilded  signs.  Here 
and  there  were  huge  public  buildings,  mostly 
incomplete,  and  uglier,  if  so  may  be,  than  the 
public  buildings  we  were  used  to  at  home. 

"  There  is  a  compensating  justice,"  Robbins 
observed,  "in  the  fact  that  nothing  can  make  a 
job  look  handsome  in  America." 

In  the  streets  were  horse-cars  and  cable-cars, 
and  men  with  soft  hats  and  straw  hats  and 
white  stove-pipes,  and  women  apparently  re- 
spectable who  wore  diamond  ear-rings  as  they 
passed  in  and  out  of  big-windowecl  shops.  But 
for  all  these  signs  of  what  continent  we  were 
on,  there  was  something  foreign  about  the  place. 
Though  we  were  near  midsummer,  the  air  was 
thick  and  damp  and  chilly.  Now  and  then  a 
few  drops  came  drizzling  from  what  looked  like 
a  tremendous  storm-cloud,  yet  brought  forth  no 
more  than  this  mouse  of  a  shower.  There  was 
a  smell  of  coal-smoke ;  flakes  of  soot  came  set- 
tling down  on  our  hands  and  our  linen  ;  even 
the  half-finished  public  buildings  were  as  grimy 
14 


210  BankelVs  Remains. 

as  if  they  Lad  stood  there  for  a  century.  So  as 
we  looked  at  them  through  the  murky  atmos- 
phere, and  heard  the  talk  of  passers-by  whose 
language  we  knew,  though  every  face  was 
strange,  I  found  myself  feeling  as  I  have  felt 
in  some  of  those  cities  of  the  Old  World  that 
have  none  of  its  charm. 

Presently  we  came  to  a  shabby  building  where 
there  was  excitement.  Bustling  fellows  with 
anxious  faces  were  hurrying  in  and  out,  while 
from  within  came  the  sound  of  a  Babel  of 
voices.  The  place,  I  knew,  was  the  Grain  Ex- 
change, where  such  business  goes  on  as  you 
may  see  wherever  they  deal  in  stocks. 

"  It 's  different,  though,"  said  Robbins,  "  when 
yon  stop  to  think.  The  question  here  is  not  who 
shall  pay  most  for  a  bit  of  paper,  generally  about 
as  valuable  as  an  ivory  chip.  It  is  much  more 
exciting  than  that ;  it  is  who  shall  hold  half  the 
breadstuff  of  the  world.  I  don't  wonder  that 
Socialism  is  growing  popular." 

Just  then  the  sidewalk  was  so  crowded  that 
we  had  to  check  our  walk,  and  so  overheard  a 


The   Convention.  211 


little  of  the  talk  about  us.  From  this  it  trans- 
pired that  Sloane  &  Williams  had  just  bought 
half  a  million  bushels  of  wheat,  thereby  turning 
the  market  upside  down.  And  once  or  twice, 
as  familiar  sounds  always  catch  the  ear,  I  heard 
people  name  Rankell. 

The  name  of  Sloane  &  Williams  sounded 
familiar,  too ;  in  an  instant  I  saw  why.  Across 
the  street  it  was  gilded  on  a  plate-glass  win- 
dow ;  and  looking  toward  this,  impelled  I  sup- 
pose by  some  unconscious  memory  of  having 
noticed  it  before,  I  saw  why  Rankell's  name 
was  in  the  air.  For  there,  just  behind  the  win- 
dow, stood  the  wizened  little  man  listening 
attentively  to  a  stout  fellow  with  a  long  mous- 
tache, who  held  between  his  teeth  a  wooden 
toothpick.  When  I  caught  sight  of  Rankell  his 
long-drawn  upper  lip  gave  him  what  I  thought 
an  expression  of  dismay  ;  but  as  I  watched  him 
he  raised  the  hand  that  held  his  gold-headed 
stick,  and  with  the  edge  of  his  forefinger  rubbed 
the  lip  until  the  irritation  that  had  caused  its 
closing  was  allayed.    Then  as  he  nodded  a  brisk 


212  RankelVs  Remains. 


assent  to  what  the  fat  broker  was  saying,  I  saw 
the  old  grin  break  over  his  face. 

Rankell,  the  papers  told  us  later,  was  sus- 
pected of  improving  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
his  trip  West  to  take  what  was  described  as  a 
"flyer"  in  wheat;  and  this  purchase  of  half  a 
million  bushels  was  said  to  be  the  opening  gun 
of  his  campaign.  This  meant,  as  Robbins  said, 
that  in  the  midst  of  political  work  he  had 
stepped  aside  to  play  a  pretty  little  game  with 
famine. 

It  was  during  another  walk  that  Robbins  said 
this.  Along  with  a  bearded  delegate  in  brown 
clothes  we  had  strolled  to  quite  a  different  part 
of  the  city,  near  the  circus-like  building  of  cor- 
rugated iron  where  the  Convention  was  to  sit. 
This  was  close  to  the  lake,  separated  from  the 
water  by  no  more  than  a  railroad  where  freight- 
trains  puffed  up  and  down.  In  front  of  us, 
as  far  as  we  could  see,  stretched  the  narrow 
park  through  which  we  walked.  On  one  side, 
beyond  sidewalks  lined  with  half-grown  trees, 
were    elaborate   houses    which,   in    this   region 


The   Convention.  213 


where,  within  the  memory  of  man,  people  lived 
in  log  huts,  looked  unused  to  being  expensive. 
On  the  other  side,  just  across  the  railroad,  was 
the  lake,  its  surface  stirred  by  a  light  breeze 
that  blew  toward  us ;  and  here,  when  the  pass- 
ing trains  permitted,  we  could  look  out  over  a 
great  expanse  of  iridescent  water,  shining  in  the 
dim  sunlight  with  a  thousand  dreamy  hues  of 
blue  and  green  and  purple. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Robbins  with  rising  warmth, 
"Rankell  is  playing  with  famine." 

"I  don't  sajT  he  ain't,  sir,"  said  the  cautious 
delegate. 

"  And  there  are  his  counters,"  cried  Robbins, 
turning  about  with  an  air  of  eloquence. 

He  pointed  back  toward  the  city.  There, 
among  the  tall  chimneys  that  were  belching 
out  black  clouds  of  smoke  to  join  the  clouds 
that  always  overhung  them,  we  could  see  the 
dark  masses  of  grain-elevators  looming  up  like 
misshapen  mountains. 

a  Men  like  Rankell  never  work  without  pay," 
went  on  Robbins    with  more  heat  than  looie. 


214  RankelVs  Remains. 

"  Famine  is  what  you  vote  for  if  you  vote  for 
Cox." 

"  I  don't  say  it  ain't,"  repeated  the  delegate, 
laying  his  hand  on  Robbins's  arm.  "  Rankell  's 
practical,  but  I  don't  like  him.  And  I  don't  like 
Cox  either,  —  not  a  bit  better  than  you  do. 
But  how  about  the  people  ?  He  's  awful  smart. 
How  about  the  people  ?  " 

And  there,  Robbins  said  later,  we  had  before 
us  the  two  things  honest  men  were  bound  to 
fight :  one  was  money  won  and  spent  no  one 
cared  how,  so  long  as  there  was  little  waste  ; 
the  other  was  such  temper  as  the  delegate 
had   shown. 

"  These  men  are  not  dishonest,"  said  Rob- 
bins.  "  Nothing  impresses  me  more  than  that ; 
but  they  are  so  horribly  afraid  of  seeming  un- 
practical to  a  bugbear  they  call '  the  people,'  that 
you  can  frighten  them  by  saying  '  Boo ! '  " 


The   Convention. 


IV. 

Before  the  Convention  sat  I  had  two  other 
glimpses  of  Rankell :  the  first  was  one  evening 
when,  according  to  the  papers,  the  working- 
men  of  the  West  made  a  grand  spontaneous 
demonstration  in  favor  of  the  Hon.  William  D. 
Cox.  This  was  the  culmination  of  much  pre- 
liminary enthusiasm.  For  while  Rankell  and 
other  men  of  practical  reputation  were  hard  at 
work  with  delegates  and  committees,  political 
clubs  in  blue  flannel  suits  and  white  stove-pipe 
hats  had  patrolled  the  streets  with  bands,  and 
banners  decorated  with  colossal  portraits  of  Cox, 
who  therein  resembled  a  gray-haired  fish.  Of 
an  evening,  too,  companies  of  rough  fellows,  sup- 
posed to  be  honest  workingmen  resting  after  the 
day's  toil,  would  tramp  noisily  about,  uttering 
rhythmical  cries  of  " Cox!  Cox!— Bill  lee!  Cox!" 
These  spontaneous  expressions  of  public  feeling 
impressed  delegates  more  than  Robbins  liked. 

"I'm   afraid,"  he   said,  "that   a   man    must 


216  RanhelVs  Remains. 

be  something  more  than  practical  to  recognize 
claque." 

When  the  claque  culminated  in  this  demon- 
stration, which  took  place  before  the  hotel 
where  Cox's  committee,  along  with  most  others, 
had  their  headquarters,  Robbins  and  I  sat  in 
a  club  window  across  the  way.  The  street  was 
crowded  with  just  such  rough  fellows  as  we  had 
often  seen  in  smaller  groups  shouting  the  name 
of  Cox.  And  as  Mr.  Cox's  managers  —  at  the 
head  of  whom  was  a  military-looking  personage 
called  General  Bob  Tompkins  —  stood  on  the 
gallery  above  the  portico,  they  were  constantly 
greeted  with  the  drum-like  rhythmical  shouts. 
Two  or  three  times  General  Bob  endeavored 
to  quiet  the  disorder  by  making  a  speech.  We 
could  see  him  remove  his  broad-brimmed  mili- 
tary hat,  and  hear  him  utter  the  words,  "  Fellow- 
citizens! "  But  shouts  of  "  Cox ! "  overwhelmed 
his  further  eloquence.  And  each  time,  with  a 
smile  that  we  could  see  by  the  electric  lights, 
he  gave  it  up,  and,  turning  to  his  friends,  shook 
his  bald  head. 


The  Convention.  217 


Among  this  company,  I  presently  observed, 
Rankell  did  not  appear. 

"  Of  course  he  does  n't,"  said  Robbins,  when 
I  spoke  of  the  fact ;  "  this  is  a  time  for  mo- 
nopoly to  keep  dark.  You  may  depend  upon  it, 
though,  that  he  helps  pay  the  bills." 

So  we  sat  watching,  until  at  last,  when  the 
crowded  street  seemed  on  the  verge  of  riot,  we 
heard  the  notes  of  an  approaching  band.  Some- 
how the  crowd  parted,  leaving  such  a  narrow 
path  as  you  see  in  old  pictures  of  the  passage 
of  the  Red  Sea  ;  and  presently  along  came  the 
band,  playing  a  brave  march  quite  in  keeping 
with  the  drum-major  in  a  huge  white  shako 
who  stalked  at  the  head.  The  shouting  pro- 
cession that  followed  with  torches  and  banners 
and  Roman  candles  had  hardly  begun  to  turn 
the  next  corner,  when  another  band  became 
audible  from  the  direction  whither  the  first  had 
marched.  In  a  minute  more  a  second  proces- 
sion, coming  from  that  side,  began  boldly  to 
force  its  way  into  the  narrow  street  that  had 
seemed  too  crowded  for  the  first.     And  then  all 


218  HankelVs  Remains. 

semblance  of  order  disappeared  ;  and  we  sat 
looking  down  at  a  confused  struggle  of  men 
with  torches  and  men  without,  of  bands  half 
disbanded  and  bands  still  playing  their  loudest, 
of  fireworks,  and  transparencies  decorated  with 
the  fish-like  countenance  of  Mr.  Cox,  and  hats 
tossed  in  the  air, —  possibly  not  by  their  owners. 
And  over  all  the  noise  came  from  time  to  time 
solid  rhythmical  shouts  of  "Cox!  Cox! — Bil ! 
lee!  Cox!" 

To  me  the  demonstration  looked  alarmingly 
genuine.  I  said  so  to  Robbins.  Claque  could 
not  reach  such  dimensions. 

Robbins  laughed  at  me. 

"  It 's  cleverly  done,"  he  said,  "  but  it 's  hum- 
bug. If  it  was  genuine  there  would  have  been 
a  dozen  fights  by  this  time."  And  thereupon  he 
pointed  out  one  or  two  details  that  had  escaped 
my  notice.  We  sat  high  enough  to  see  above  the 
heads  of  the  people  that  the  avenues  whence 
the  rival  processions  had  entered  the  narrow 
street  were  by  no  means  crowded.  And  in  the 
counter  procession  which  had  capped  the  climax 


The   Convention.  219 


of  enthusiasm  we  soon  descried  the  white  shako 
of  the  drum-major  who  had  headed  the  first. 

"All  they  are  really  doing,"  said  Robbins, 
"  is  to  fill  one  of  the  narrowest  streets  in  town. 
These  fellows  are  counter-marching  like  proces- 
sions at  the  opera.  What  bothers  me  is  that 
it  must  be  frightfully  expensive ;  and  men  like 
Rankell  would  n't  do  it  if  it  did  n't  pay." 

Just  as  the  tumult  was  at  its  highest  I  hap- 
pened to  look  across  the  way.  At  a  window 
of  the  hotel,  a  story  or  two  above  the  portico 
where  General  Bob  Tompkins,  with  his  fierce 
military  moustache  and  imperial,  stood  bowing 
and  smiling  in  patriotic  enthusiasm,  I  saw  two 
figures.  The  room  from  which  the  window 
opened  was  dark,  and  the  lace  curtain  had  been 
pulled  aside  to  give  these  two,  who  were  hardly 
visible  from  the  street,  a  clear  sight  of  what 
was  going  on.  From  where  we  sat  we  could 
plainly  see  them  by  the  electric  lights.  One 
was  a  red-faced  fellow  with  a  black  moustache, 
who  wore  the  blue  flannel  uniform  and  white 
hat  of  a  political  club.     He  looked  busy,  and 


220  RanhdVs  Remains. 


pointed  here  and  there  as  he  talked  excitedly 
to  his  companion  ;  and  the  companion  was 
Rankell,  grinning  in  his  more  venerable  man- 
ner as  he  nodded  his  wizened  little  head  to 
show  that  he  understood  what  was  going  on. 

Presently  Rankell  pointed  toward  a  part  of 
the  crowd  that  was  becoming  quiescent.  There- 
upon the  red-faced  man  leaned  forward  and 
made  some  signal.  Forthwith  from  that  region 
arose  louder  than  ever  the  rhythmical  shout  of 
"Cox!  Cox!  — Bill  lee!  Cox!" 

Then  Rankell,  with  expanding  smile,  threw 
back  his  little  shoulders  and  said  something  to 
his  companion,  who  interrupted  the  biting  of  a 
fresh  cigar  to  make  a  jolly  answer,  laying  his 
hand  on  Rankell's  shoulder  ;  and  together  they 
slipped  behind  the  flapping  lace  curtain. 

The  red-faced  man,  Robbins  told  me,  was  one 
Mike  Macmanus,  boss  of  the  county. 

"  He's  stage-manager,  you  see,"  said  Robbins. 
"  Rankell  can't  show  to-night;  but  he  's  making 
sure  that  Mike  gives  them  their  money's  worth." 


The   Convention.  221 


V. 

My  other  glimpse  of  Rankell  was  the  clay 
before  the  Convention  sat.  By  that  time  Rob- 
bins  was  so  deep  in  political  work  that  he  had 
little  time  for  me,  and  seemed  rather  absent 
when  we  came  together.  He  needed  all  his 
steam,  he  apologetically  said,  to  keep  him  going  ; 
there  was  none  left  to  blow  off. 

The  work  that  kept  him  busy  was  much  like 
what  Rankell  was  about.  In  the  great  hotel 
whence  General  Bob  Tompkins  and  his  friends 
had  watched  the  demonstration  in  honor  of 
Cox  every  available  room  had  been  taken  by 
committees  and  delegations.  Above  the  doors 
that  lined  the  hot  velvet-carpeted  corridors, 
where  chandeliers  were  lighted  and  the  air  was 
thick  with  tobacco-smoke,  were  printed  placards 
telling  the  ceaseless  crowds  that  elbowed  their 
way  about  who  was  within.  "  National  Com- 
mittee "  stared  at  you  above  one  door,  the 
names  of  States  above  others,  and  so  on.    With- 


222  BankelVs  Remains. 

in  these  rooms  committees  and  delegations  some- 
times sat  closeted  ;  again  in  formal  session  they 
would  receive  deputations  of  speakers  come  to 
urge  the  claims  of  this  or  that  candidate.  It 
had  grown  plain  that  Cox  was  the  most  promi- 
nent. Rankell  and  other  practical  men  were 
making  so  serious  an  impression  that  opposition, 
to  be  effective,  must  be  more  than  negative. 
Accordingly  Bobbins  and  men  come  like  him 
to  check  what  they  called  the  national  disgrace 
involved  in  Cox's  nomination  had  been  forced 
to  choose  whom  they  should  support  against 
him.  Their  choice  fell  on  a  certain  Senator 
Campbell,  whose  career,  though  partisan,  had 
been  thoroughly  honest. 

There  were  two  or  three  objections  to  him, 
though.  He  was  not  magnetic ;  he  had  a  cast 
in  the  eye  that  would  lend  itself  to  caricature ; 
and  on  one  occasion,  in  the  warmth  of  a  speech 
excited  by  some  trumped-up  terrorism  in  the 
South,  he  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to 
proclaim  that  a  black  skin  could  give  a  man 
no  higher  rights  than  a  white.     This  dictum  — 


The   Convention.  223 


admitted  by  Senator  Hotchkiss,  his  chief  man- 
ager, to  be  "  the  sole  stain  on  an  otherwise 
spotless  and  philanthropic  public  career"  —  had 
alienated,  practical  men  declared,  a  great  part 
of  the  negro  vote.  Robbins  and  his  friends 
were  hard  at  work  trying  to  convince  delegates, 
who,  as  he  said,  "  would  like  to  be  honest  if 
they  dared,"  that  these  objections  were  not  so 
insuperable  in  the  eyes  of  a  free  and  indepen- 
dent people  as  what  might  be  urged  against 
a  statesman  like  Cox,  who,  for  all  his  practical 
friends,  had  made  a  fortune  in  offices  where  his 
salary  would  hardly  pay  his  board. 

At  this  moment  the  chief  object  of  their 
efforts  was  the  delegation  from  Alabama.  Al- 
phabetically, Robbins  pointed  out  to  me,  Ala- 
bama was  the  most  valuable  State  in  the  Union. 
She  led  the  roll-call;  if  she  voted  solidly  for 
a  candidate  the  impression  would  be  hard 
to  unmake.  Besides,  half  the  delegates  from 
Alabama  were  negroes  or  mulattoes  ;  if  they 
could  be  brought  to  vote  for  Campbell,  the 
effects   of   that    unlucky   speech    on    terrorism 


224  RankelVs  Remains. 

would  be  nullified.  Yet  Cox's  men  were  vig- 
orously attacking  Alabama  too,  and  the  work 
became  so  important  that  Campbell's  managers 
pressed  into  service  whoever  could  help  them. 
At  one  time  Robbins  was  seized  with  an  idea 
that  even  I  might  do  some  good,  and  so 
led  me  into  the  committee-room  where,  with 
Campbell's  other  leading  supporters,  Senator 
Hotchkiss  sat  in  state. 

The  Senator,  a  thin,  sallow  man,  with  a  droop- 
ing gray  moustache  and  appalling  solemnity  of 
manner,  received  me  with  sorrowful  courtesy. 
Much  as  a  physician  might  question  a  patient 
whose  symptoms  were  alarming,  he  proceeded 
to  ask  my  opinions.  What  was  the  state  of 
feeling  in  the  business  community?  How  far 
had  the  speech  about  terrorism  influenced  what 
he  might  describe  as  the  Abolition  vote?  Of 
these  matters,  on  which  I  understood  Rankeli 
and  his  friends  dwelt  at  much  length,  I  knew 
little.  My  answers,  then,  were  so  far  from  sat- 
isfactory, that  in  spite  of  the  enthusiasm  which 
by   this  time   had    made  me,  as    Robbins  said, 


The  Convention.  225 


44  positively  explosive,"  the  Senator  soon  dis- 
missed me  with  a  disconcertingly  solemn  bow, 
and  turned  his  attention  to  a  more  practical 
gentleman  with  gray  hair. 

The  last  I  saw  of  the  committee-room,  this 
Governor,  whose  name  I  failed  to  catch,  was 
taking  a  handful  of  cigars  from  a  box  that  lay 
open  on  the  table,  meanwhile  assuring  an  anx- 
ious friend  that  though  the  expenses  of  the 
canvass  were  enormous,  we  might  rest  assured 
that  Mr.  Campbell's  managers  would  husband 
every  resource. 

Robbins  had  not  rested  here.  He  privately 
presented  me  in  the  corridor  to  General  Crowley, 
the  chairman  of  the  delegation  from  Alabama, 
and  to  Mr.  Montgomery,  a  leading  member 
thereof.  Crowley  was  a  large  man,  in  an  ill- 
fitting  frock-coat ;  he  wore  a  gray  moustache 
and  chin-beard  ;  his  stiff  gray  hair  was  brushed 
straight  behind  his  ears  ;  his  thick  aquiline  nose 
was  surmounted  by  steel-rimmed  spectacles  ; 
and  he  carried  his  left  hand  in  a  red  silk  sling. 
Montgomery  was  a  spruce  negro  whose  coun- 

15 


226  RankelVs  Remains. 

tenance  in  repose  had  the  air  described  as 
Napoleonic,  but  whose  manner  when  he  spoke 
revealed  in  its  vivacity  that  before  the  war  he 
had  been  a  body-servant.  These  gentlemen 
received  me  with  formal  courtesy,  asking  wheth- 
er I  should  like  to  stump  the  State  in  the 
autumn.  But  finding  me  unavailable  for  this 
purpose,  and  discovering,  I  suppose,  no  practical 
traits,  they  proceeded  the  next  clay  to  forget  my 
name.     So  Robbins  gave  me  up  as  a  bad  job. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  as  he  whisked  off  to  his 
committee-room  the  morning  before  the  Conven- 
tion, "  what  you  might  have  done  if  you  had 
not  wasted  your  youth." 

Thus  left  alone,  and  pretty  thoroughly 
wrought  up,  I  found  myself  that  morning  aim- 
lessly pushing  about  the  hotel  which  for  the 
moment  was  the  centre  of  American  political 
life  ;  and  in  my  wanderings  I  had  my  last 
glimpse  of  Rankell  before  the  Convention. 

In  the  crowd  that  was  passing  up  one  side 
of  the  great  staircase  from  the  office,  while 
policemen   forced  a  companion  stream   to  pass 


The   Convention.  227 


down  the  other,  some  one  called  my  name ; 
and  there  to  my  surprise  I  found  Tom  Hen- 
derson, whose  heavy  cheeks,  unshaven  for  a 
day,  were  covered  with  a  grayish  stubble. 

He  was  on  his  way  home  from  Montana,  he 
said,  where  he  had  been  shooting.  He  had 
been  fool  enough  to  stop  for  a  look  at  things 
in  this  confounded  hole. 

And  taking  my  arm  he  proceeded,  as  we 
slowl}7  passed  upstairs,  to  relate  with  much 
indignation  how  he  had  been  knocked  up  in 
the  middle  of  the  night.  His  visitor  turned 
out  to  be  a  certain  Mr.  Grand,  of  Sharon 
Springs,  Nebraska,  who,  much  the  worse  for 
drink,  stated  that  he  was  come  to  share  his 
bed. 

"  I  told  the  beggar  to  clear  out,"  said  Tom, 
"  and  he  would  n't.  He  got  pathetic,  —  said  that 
such  treatment  at  his  time    of   life  made  him 

feel  hurt,  —  fifty-three  years  old,  by ,  and 

alwavs  voted  the  regular  ticket.  And  do  you 
know  the  fellow  began  pulling  off  his  trousers. 
Well,  I  rang  for  the  clerk ;  and,  by  Jove !  sir,  I 


228  RankelVs  Remains. 

was  told  that  if  I  did  n't  like  it  I  might  move 
out ;  there  were  plenty  of  people  waiting  for  half 
a  bed.  I  did  move  out.  Sat  up  all  night.  I  'm 
off  by  the  next  train." 

"  By  the  way,*'  he  went  on,  mollified  by  my 
sympathetic  listening,  "  a  queer  thing  happened 
last  night.  Have  you  been  to  the  Occidental 
Theatre?" 

"  No,"  I  said. 

"Shady  kind  of  place.  They're  doing  a  leg- 
piece,  —  Hiawatha.  Well,  the  first  girl  I  saw  in 
the  chorus  was  that  blonde  who  used  to  sing  at 
parties,  —  little  Lottimer,  don't  you  know.  She 
winked  at  me  ;  I  was  in  the  front  row.  I  cleared 
out.  She  's  gone  off  like  the  devil  —  thin  as  a 
rail,  false  teeth,  and  whole  kegs  of  paint.  It 's 
too  bad  she 's  got  so  low ;  she  used  to  be  a 
nice  little  thing.  Damn  it,  I  've  half  an  idea 
I  started  her  myself." 

And  Tom,  who  had  done  his  best  to  repair 
the  ravages  of  a  sleepless  night  with  brandy 
and  soda,  looked  the  image  of  virtuous  repent- 
ance. 


The   Convention.  229 


Just  then  a  door  opened  in  the  over-heated 
corridor  we  had  reached.  There  was  a  rush  of 
reporters  and  other  curious  people  to  know  what 
was  at  hand.  So  Tom  and  I  were  crowded 
aside  as  a  path  was  opened  for  a  company  that 
emerged  from  the  room  in  double  file. 

"  Where  are  the}-  going?"  asked  a  man  reach- 
ing over  my  shoulder  to  pull  the  sleeve  of  one 
who  was  clearing  a  way  for  the  procession. 

"  Alabama,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Who  are  they,  any  way  ?  "  asked  Tom  of  the 
questioner. 

"  Cox  men,"  he  answered  with  a  look  of  con- 
temptuous surprise. 

"  Barrels !  "  sung  out  a  voice  behind  us. 
But  only  feeble  laughter  greeted  this  sally, 
for  every  one  of  these  Cox  men,  it  appeared, 
was  somebody.  And  at  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession, along  with  General  Bob  Tompkins, 
whose  military  hat  was  well  on  one  side,  trotted 
Rankell,  doing  his  best  to  keep  up  with  his 
companion's  strides. 

As  I  looked  at  the  little  man  I  felt  my  anger 


230  RankelVs  Remains. 

rising.  Excited  by  the  unwonted  bustle  of  the 
past  few  days,  I  remembered  in  one  flash  all 
that  I  had  known  of  him  to  this  time.  And 
here  he  was  now,  placidly  trotting  away  to  per- 
suade the  puzzled  men  from  Alabama  that  the 
wise  course  was  to  make  a  nomination  they 
knew  disgraceful.  If  they  made  it  he  would 
be  the  gainer ;  and  that  was  all  he  cared  for. 
Thinking  thus,  with  the  heat  I  had  caught  from 
Robbins,  I  stared  rudely  at  Rankell's  face  ;  and 
he  in  passing  caught  my  eye.  He  thought,  I 
suppose,  I  was  some  one  he  knew.  At  any  rate 
he  nodded  his  head,  with  a  dry  "  How  d-e  do, 
sir?" 

u  Who  is  that?  "  asked  Tom  in  my  ear. 

What  Tom  had  told  of  Sadie,  and  all  the  story 
of  her  family,  were  fresh  in  my  mind. 

"  The  man  that  started  little  Lottimer,"  I 
burst  out. 

"Thunder!"  exclaimed  Tom,  who  failed  to 
grasp  my  metaphor.  "  Who  'd  have  thought  it  ? 
And  how  should  you  know?  " 

But   when    I    did    not    answer    he    tactfully 


The   Convention.  231 


refrained  from  pressing  the  question,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  and  the  words,  "  Well,  I  'm  mighty 
glad  to  hear  it  wasn't  me." 


VI. 

When  I  found  next  day  the  seat  which  Rob- 
bins  had  secured  me  on  the  platform,  there  were 
still  few  people  in  the  hall  where  the  Conven- 
tion was  coming  together.  As  I  looked  about 
at  the  wilderness  of  rough  pine  carpentry  where 
delegates  and  substitutes  and  reporters  and 
guests  and  public  were  slowly  straggling  in, 
the  place  seemed  like  a  circus- tent  too  large  for 
the  town  where  it  is  pitched.  On  all  sides  the 
hall  was  draped  with  flags  and  bright  bunting. 
At  regular  intervals  on  the  front  of  the  galleries 
appeared  pasteboard  shields  gaudily  painted 
with  what  by  courtesy  are  styled  the  arms  of 
the  several  States  of  the  Federal  Union.  In  the 
midst  of  all,  and  largest  of  all,  blazed  the  stars 
and  stripes  surmounted  by  a  stuffed  bald  eagle. 
And  the  circus-like   impression   was    enhanced 


232  RankelVs  Remains. 

by  a  brass  band,  which  from  just  above  this 
national  emblem  was  blowing  into  the  cubic 
acre  of  walled  space  the  thin  notes  of  popular 
melodies  that  we  have  chosen  to  describe  as 
national  airs. 

Robbins's  parting  speech  had  perhaps  sug- 
gested the  idea.  "  This  Convention  is  to  be- 
gin," he  said,  "  with  a  regular  circus.  And  the 
opening  act  will  be  a  fight  for  who  shall  be 
ring-master  and  who  clown." 

This,  being  interpreted,  signified  that  the  ad- 
herents of  Cox  and  of  Campbell  proposed  test- 
ing their  respective  strength  by  nominating 
rival  candidates  for  the  chair.  Cox's  men,  it 
was  understood,  brought  forward  General  Bob 
Tompkins;  Campbell's,  Senator  Hotchkiss.  The 
Senator,  to  be  sure,  was  so  far  from  a  model 
representative  of  reform  that  he  had  lately  been 
actively  concerned  in  a  vote  of  public  money, 
that  people  not  benefited  thereby  described  as 
"  a  steal." 

"But  then,"  Robbins  said,  "he  hates  Cox 
like   the   devil.     And    he   understands    politics. 


The    Convention.  238 

And  this  is  a  fight  where  we  have  everything 
to  gain  and  nothing  to  lose." 

In  fact,  if  Hotchkiss  were  defeated,  it  would 
be  no  more  than  everybody  expected.  Cox's 
name  was  shouting  in  every  street ;  Campbell's 
was  kept  very  quiet.  What  work  had  been 
done  for  him  was  so  far  beneath  the  surface 
that  general  report  declared  Cox  able  to  carry 
the  Convention  without  a  struggle.  With  Rob- 
bins's  help,  though,  I  had  seen  enough  to  know 
that  the  stout  delegate  with  whom  we  walked 
beside  the  lake  was  fairly  typical  of  all.  These 
delegates  generally  liked  Cox  as  little  as  we  ; 
the}7  honestly  thought  his  candidacy  disgraceful. 
But  the  shouting  demonstrations  of  his  workers, 
along  with  the  practical  speeches  of  Rankell 
and  the  like,  had  frightened  them.  How  far 
they  dared  act  on  their  convictions  was  the 
question.  Under  these  circumstances,  if  Hotch- 
kiss had  even  a  respectable  following  the  blow- 
to  Cox  would  be  serious. 

Thus  primed  I  watched  the  gathering  crowd. 
Reporters  began   to  fill  their  seats,  sharpening 


234  RankelVs  Remains. 

pencils  and  chatting  with  such  unconcern  as 
you  see  in  an  orchestra  ready  tuned  for  the 
overture.  Distinguished  guests  moved  about 
the  platform,  shaking  hands  and  finding  their 
places.  Substitutes  crowded  their  seats  behind 
the  delegates  as  thick  as  boys  in  the  gallery  of 
a  theatre.  Delegates  appeared  in  such  numbers 
that  their  yellow,  cane-bottomed  chairs  were  no 
longer  visible.  And  the  public,  flocking  to  the 
pine  benches  that  on  all  sides  rose  until  they 
met  the  lattice-like  braces  which  curled  up  to 
the  roof,  merged  in  tier  on  tier  of  faces  that 
showed  like  so  many  dull  white  spots  against 
the  vast  background  of  black  coats.  Among 
them  my  eye  picked  out  a  pretty  girl  with  red 
feathers  in  her  hat,  who  wore  a  Campbell  badge  ; 
and  I  looked  at  her  with  interest  until  she 
caught  my  eye  and  flushed. 

So  I  turned  again  to  the  delegates,  among 
whom  I  presently  picked  out  such  as  I  knew  by 
sight.  There  was  Robbins,  brimming  over  with 
spirits,  whispering  right  and  left  things  that 
made  his  neighbors  laugh.     There,  a  little  way 


The   Convention.  235 


off,  was  Hotchkiss,  solemnly  lecturing  a  Jewish 
delegate  with  black  whiskers.  There  was  Gen- 
eral Bob  Tompkins,  looking  straight  forward, 
with  the  air  of  one  sitting  for  a  photograph. 
Near  by,  Mike  Macmanus  shifted  uneasily  in 
his  seat,  crossing  his  legs  first  one  way  and 
then  the  other.  Farther  off,  I  caught  sight  of 
stately  General  Crowley,  the  Alabama  chair- 
man, with  his  steel  spectacles,  and  his  red  sling, 
and  his  iron-gray  hair  brushed  behind  his  ears  ; 
and  close  beside  him,  of  the  Napoleonic  negro 
Montgomery.  Finally,  in  the  front  row  of  the 
largest  delegation  I  spied  Rankell,  benignly 
blinking  as  if  he  were  in  church. 

The  band  struck  up  the  kt  Star-Spangled 
Banner,"  with  startling  effects  on  the  cymbals. 
Everybody  sat  expectant.  A  big  Irish  police- 
man who  was  keeping  strangers  off  the  floor 
thrust  his  round  face  about  the  corner  of  the 
platform,  and  I  could  see  his  jaws  moving  as 
he  munched  a  quid.  Then,  as  the  last  notes 
of  the  national  air  died  out,  a  lank,  smooth- 
shaven    divine  —  who    somebody   said    was    the 


236  RanhelVs  Remains. 

Bishop  of  Minnesota  —  arose,  stepped  to  the 
front  of  the  platform,  lifted  up  his  arms,  and 
at  the  highest  pitch  consistent  with  clerical 
dignity  uttered  the  words,  "  Let  us  pray." 

I  saw  Rankell's  yellow  head  boh  devoutly 
down.  Many  delegates  followed  his  example  ; 
others  looked  undecided  how  to  act  under 
seemingly  unfamiliar  circumstances.  The  pub- 
lic and  the  distinguished  guests  preserved 
respectful  silence ;  but  the  reporters  kept 
whispering  among  themselves,  and  the  stenog- 
raphers kept  their  pencils  going  in  pace  with 
the  very  reverend  speaker,  and  across  the  hall 
I  could  see  the  gleam  of  moving  instruments 
as  the  band  repaired  the  ravages  of  their  recent 
performance.  Meanwhile  the  Bishop,  with 
closed  eyes,  was  busily  intoning  a  prayer  in- 
telligible only  to  stenographers.  And  so  the 
Convention  was  opened. 

Governor  Duddy,  of  Kansas,  was  unani- 
mously elected  temporary  chairman,  and,  com- 
ing to  his  desk,  began  a  patriotic  harangue. 
In    five    minutes,    having   shouted    away    what 


The  Convention.  237 


voice  he  had,  he  was  merely  a  stout  figure  in 
a  loose  frock-coat,  vibrating  a  brown  beard 
that  hung  down  to  his  waist,  shaking  his  head 
to  keep  a  troublesome  forelock  out  of  his  e}7es, 
and  bending  his  knees  with  a  sudden  jerk  when 
occasionally  he  emphasized  his  eloquence  by  a 
downward  gesture. 

So  the  formal  proceedings  went  on,  until  at 
last  balloting  for  a  permanent  chairman  was 
declared  in  order,  and  somebody  arose  among 
the  delegates  naming  General  Robert  F.  Tomp- 
kins, of  Missouri.  At  the  sound  of  this  name 
there  was  a  burst  of  applause,  and  the  listening 
delegates  whispered  among  themselves. 

Now,  I  thought,  the  struggle  was  coming. 
Somebody  would  nominate  Hotchkiss  ;  there 
would  be  fresh  applause,  whose  volume  would 
have  grave  significance ;  and  the  vote  that  fol- 
lowed would  tell  what  hopes  Campbell's  men 
might  cherish.  Full  of  excitement,  then,  I 
waited  for  the  applause  to  end,  wondering  who 
among  these  delegates  before  me  had  been  chosen 
to  nominate  General  Bob  Tompkins's  rival. 


238  RankelVs  Remains. 

The  applause  subsided  at  last.  There  was  a 
brief  pause  ;  and  then,  to  everybody's  amaze- 
ment, Hotchkiss  himself  arose.  There  was  a 
stir  throughout  the  hall.  Everybody  had  sup- 
posed he  was  the  rival  candidate,  but  surely  he 
could  not  propose  his  own  name.  In  an  in- 
stant more  the  whole  assembly  was  so  still  that 
you  could  hear  the  scratching  of  the  reporters' 
pencils,  and  every  eye  was  fixed  on  Hotchkiss, 
whose  thin  figure  stood  out  with  strange  dis- 
tinctness against  the  blurred  background  of 
black  coats  and  white  faces. 

He  made  no  speech,  but  standing  silent 
until  he  was  sure  that  everybody  was  ready 
to  hear  what  he  said,  he  nominated  —  with  a 
ponderous  gravity  that  made  me  feel  how  on 
his  words,  despite  his  slippery  character,  hung 
perhaps  the  future  of  the  nation  —  the  Hon. 
Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery,  of  Alabama. 

For  an  instant  there  was  profound  silence. 
Then  arose  such  an  uproar  as  I  had  never 
heard  in  my  life.  Half  the  hall  was  on  its  legs, 
shouting,    waving    hats,    wildly    gesticulating. 


The   Convention.  239 


There  were  thunders  of  incoherent  cheers  met 
by  answering  storms  of  groans  and  hisses.  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Robbins,  his  head  thrown 
back,  shaking  with  laughter.  I  saw  Macmanus, 
his  fat  face  livid  with  rage,  start  to  jump  on  his 
chair,  and  pulled  back  by  his  friends.  Away  to 
the  left  I  saw  General  Crowley,  half  a  head 
taller  than  the  men  about  him,  peering  excit- 
edly through  his  steel-rimmed  spectacles.  And 
in  the  midst  of  all  I  spied  Rankell,  his  eyes  half 
closed,  with  a  quizzically  puzzled  expression,  as 
he  deliberately  scratched  one  of  his  temples. 
Meanwhile  stout  Governor  Duddy  inaudibly 
hammered  his  desk,  and  shook  his  forelock  with 
leonine  rage.  And  to  the  right,  where  I  turned 
for  a  peep  at  the  pretty  girl,  I  saw  that  she  had 
quite  forgotten  my  impertinence,  as  she  leaned 
forward  with  a  breathless  interest  that  parted  a 
pair  of  lips  as  red  as  her  feathers. 

Hotchkiss,  who  understood  politics,  had  made 
his  point.  When  I  had  time  to  think,  I  saw 
what  it  was.  The  weakest  spot  in  Campbell's 
record    was   that  unlucky  speech  on  terrorism, 


240  RankelVs  Remains. 

which  Cox's  men  had  declared  would  alienate 
the  negro  vote.  And  here  Campbell's  own 
managers  proposed  for  the  highest  office  within 
their  control  as  black  a  negro  as  walked  Amer- 
ica. And  Cox's  men,  taken  unawares,  had  tried 
to  howl  down  his  name. 

44  And  that's  not  all,"  Robbins  cried,  later. 
44  Tompkins  used  to  be  a  slave-holder.  By  Jove ! 
sir,  it  begins  to  look  like  Campbell." 

And  so  it  did.  Tompkins  tried  to  parry  the 
blow  by  rising  to  withdraw  his  name  and  second 
the  nomination  of  Montgomery ;  but  the  mo- 
ment the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth  some- 
body started  a  laugh  that  went  like  wild-fire 
about  the  hall,  and  all  General  Bob's  dignity 
could  not  preserve  him  from  looking  sheepish. 

So  the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery,  of 
Alabama,  was  made  permanent  chairman  of  the 
Convention ;  and  thereby  the  supporters  of 
the  Hon.  William  D.  Cox  were  very  practically 
discomfited. 


The   Convention.  241 


VII. 

For  two  or  three  days,  so  far  as  I  could  see, 
the  defeated  faction  did  not  rally.  Proceedings 
went  on  much  as  they  had  begun.  The  Hon. 
Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery  —  derisively  termed 
"  Pomp  "  by  members  of  the  opposing  party  — 
had  a  clerk  well  primed  with  parliamentary  law, 
so  he  succeeded  in  deciding  points  of  order  very 
creditably.  In  the  intervals  of  filibustering, 
then,  speakers  from  every  part  of  the  Union 
delivered  more  or  less  audible  speeches  limited 
by  general  consent  to  half  an  hour. 

Meanwhile  a  platform  had  been  constructed, 
vigorously  denouncing  the  opposite  party  in 
long  words  derived  from  the  Latin,  and  promis- 
ing in  general  terms  pretty  much  everything 
for  which  there  was  reason  to  suppose  a  popu- 
lar demand.  Even  Prohibition  had  a  good 
word;  and  the  language  in  which  Mormonism, 
outrages  against  negroes,  and  Chinese  immigra- 
tion were  denounced,  must  have  sent  thrills  of 
16 


242  RankelVs  B 


emams. 


admiration  pulsing  through  the  happy  fields 
where  the  spirits  of  the  dead  Abolitionists  rest 
from  their  labors.  The  tariff  was  declared  to 
be  a  corner-stone  of  liberty,  but  one  that  should 
never  be  suffered  so  to  develop  as  to  check  the 
legitimate  progress  of  American  industry.  Sil- 
ver was  pronounced  a  precious  metal,  and  those 
unfriendly  to  it  as  malignantly  unpatriotic  as 
demagogues  who  maintain  the  violability  of  con- 
tracts. The  Civil  Service  was  asserted  to  be 
the  best  on  earth,  but  all  honest  efforts  to  re- 
form it  should  be  heartily  welcomed.  And  so  on. 
For  the  rest,  the  platform  was  carefully  made  so 
long  that  nobody  need  be  expected  to  read  it. 
It  was  unanimously  adopted,  printed  in  all  the 
newspapers,  and  so  consigned  to  oblivion. 

Nothing  but  the  nominating  speeches  com- 
manded much  attention.  These  were  listened 
to,  and  the  band  played  separate  airs  to  greet 
the  names  of  the  different  candidates.  Cox  was 
greeted  with  "Rally  Round  the  Flag;"  Camp- 
bell with  the  less  stirring  "  Hail  Columbia ;  " 
lesser  men  with  lesser  strains.     And  each  came 


The  Convention.  243 


to  be  known  by  his  tune,  as  Wagner's  heroes 
are  known  by  one  or  another  flourish  of 
trumpets  or  hautboys. 

All  this  time,  as  I  have  said,  the  result  of 
Senator  Hotchkiss's  master-stroke  seemed  un- 
impaired. Cox's  managers  were  apparently  at 
a  loss ;  their  popular  demonstrations  lessened ; 
and  delegates  began  freely  to  say  that  it  would 
be  a  burning  shame  to  nominate  a  man  who  was 
not  honest.  "  Honest  old  Jim  Campbell," 
indeed,  —  the  words  with  which  the  speaker  who 
nominated  that  statesman  closed  his  impassioned 
address,  —  became  the  phrase  of  the  moment. 

As  far  as  I  could  see,  then,  the  tide  had 
turned  strongly  enough  to  convince  the  most 
pessimistic  that  this  Convention  was  not  to  be 
frightened  by  popular  clamor  into  doing  irrepa- 
rable mischief.  The  delegates  all  said  so,  with 
an  air  of  conviction.  But  as  time  went  on  Rob- 
bins,  who  at  first  was  jubilant,  grew  anxious. 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  Cox's  men  behave,"  he 
said.     "  They  keep  too  quiet." 

And  now  and  then  he  heard  disturbing  bits 


244  RankelVs  Remains. 

of  news.  An  endless  telegraphic  correspon- 
dence in  cipher  was  going  on  with  Cox  himself. 
The  banks,  it  was  rumored,  had  cashed  some 
enormous  checks  for  Rankell.  A  special  train 
was  said  to  be  on  its  way  from  the  East  with 
thousands  of  copies  of  an  illustrated  paper  that 
Rankell  owned.  Finally,  one  night  came  a  still 
more  serious  matter. 

Robbins  turned  up,  thoroughly  excited.  He 
was  tempted,  he  declared,  never  to  meddle  with 
politics  again.  What  disturbed  him  did  not 
at  first  transpire.  At  last,  however,  he  told 
me  how  Rankell  had  openly  tried  to  capture 
Montgomery. 

"  He  asked  him  to  dinner,"  said  Robbins, 
"  with  all  Cox's  managers;  and  we  only  found  it 
out  just  as  the  fellow  was  starting.  He  didn't 
go,  but  we  had  a  hateful  job  to  hold  him.  I 
wouldn't  stay  to  hear  the  bargain.  Between  our- 
selves, though,  I  am  afraid  Montgomery  made 
Hotchkiss  commit  himself  about  the  Haytian 
mission.  You  can't  fight  money  with  patriotic 
arguments." 


245 

But  at  worst  the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Mont- 
gomery had  proved  incorruptible  by  Rankell. 
And  whatever  happened,  said  Robbins,  as  he 
began  to  recover  equanimity,  we  could  count 
on  Alabama,  which  was  a  good  deal. 

On  the  afternoon  when  at  last  the  Convention 
came  to  a  ballot,  Cox's  men  made  their  first  open 
stroke.  On  every  seat  in  the  hall  was  placed 
a  copy  of  the  paper  which,  as  rumor  had  rightly 
prophesied,  a  special  train  had  brought  from  the 
East.  The  chief  cartoon,  printed  in  colors,  bore 
on  the  situation.  Senator  Hotchkiss,  hardly 
recognizable  for  a  bland  smile,  offered  an  arm- 
chair to  a  deserving-looking  negro  intended  to 
represent  the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery, 
of  Alabama.  And  the  Senator  had  so  placed 
his  respectfully  bowing  person  as  to  conceal 
from  the  Hon.  Cneius's  view  the  neighboring 
figure  of  Campbell,  who  with  folded  arms  and 
ferocious  smile  contemplated,  just  at  the  focus 
of  his  crossed  eyes,  a  company  of  piratical  whites 
blazing  away  at  a  family  of  prolific  negroes  who 
wallowed  in  a  sea  of  vermilion  blood. 


246  RankelVs  Remains. 

I  noticed  Rankell  passing  this  paper  about, 
and  blandly  calling  attention  to  its  apt  wit. 
He  was  suspected,  Robbins  informed  me,  of 
having  conceived  the  idea  of  the  cartoon. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  when  at  last  the  Conven- 
tion came  to  an  informal  ballot,  and  the  clerk, 
standing  on  a  platform  beneath  the  pulpit-like 
desk  where  the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Mont- 
gomery sat,  began  to  call  the  roll  of  States, 
Alabama  cast  all  her  twenty  votes  for  Campbell. 
And  the  moral  effect  of  this  was  such  that, 
though  scattering  votes  prevented  anybody 
from  receiving  a  majority,  Campbell  turned 
out  in  the  end  to  have  fifteen  or  twenty  more 
supporters  than  Cox. 

With  this  encouraging  result,  the  Convention 
adjourned  until  evening. 

VIII. 

Now  at  last  Robbins  began  to  breathe  freely. 

"  We  have  got  them,  I  think,"   he  said  as 

we  sat  down  to  a  quiet   dinner.     '*  We    have 


The    Convention.  247 

had  to  do  hateful  things ;  but  the  only  choice 
was  a  choice  of  evils.  The  money  has  been 
against  us,  and  money  carries  the  mob.  But 
the  right  is  on  our  side  ;  and  I  hope  I  shall 
always  be  a  good  enough  American  to  be- 
lieve blindly  that  the  right  is  bound  to  prevail. 
Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-night,  sir,  they 
die." 

As  we  ate  and  drank  our  talk  fell  on  Ran- 
kell,  who  more  than  any  other  figure  seemed 
to  me  typical  of  the  evil  we  had  feared  was 
working  about  us.  Wherever  the  worst  mis- 
chief appeared  there  you  found  his  traces.  Most 
of  those  who  were  here  to  grab  what  the}' 
could  were  at  least  about  the  business  they 
lived  by.  But  Rankell  had  stepped  aside  from 
what  other  harms  his  fortune  was  working,  to 
play  here  for  his  own  gain  any  game  that  would 
bring  mone}^  to  him,  even  though  it  brought 
dishonor  to  the  country  ;  and  he  played  it  b}< 
stirring  up  what  was  worst  in  these  men  about 
him,  -—  their  silliness  and  their  greed. 

I  was  waxing  warm,  when  a  servant  brought 


248  RankelVs  Remains. 

Bobbins  a  note.  As  be  glanced  at  it  bis 
face  cbanged.  He  sprang  np  witb  an  ex- 
clamation. 

"  Macmanns  is  sick  again,"  he  explained, 
"  and  they  can't  find  Montgomery.  I  hope  to 
Heaven  Rankell  has  n't  got  hold  of  him." 

With  that  he  was  off;  and  until  the  Con- 
vention was  over  I  saw  nothing  more  of 
him. 

It  wTas  only  later  that  I  learned  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  parting  words.  On  previous  occa- 
sions of  political  danger,  it  appeared,  Macmanus 
had  been  known  mysteriously  to  fall  ill.  His 
official  place  was  thereupon  taken  by  a  substi- 
tute ;  but  his  spirit,  like  that  of  Julius  Caesar, 
would  prove  mightier  than  his  bodily  pres- 
ence. For  as  sure  as  Mike  disappeared,  out 
came  the  boys  from  far  and  near,  conduct- 
ing themselves  in  a  manner  that  argued  able 
generalship. 

As  for  Montgomery,  things  turned  out  as 
Bobbins  feared.  Rankell  had  got  hold  of  him. 
For  an  hour  or  two  he  was  closeted  with  Cox's 


TJie   Convention.  249 


managers,  from  whose  company  he  emerged,  as 
my  informant  put  it,  full  of  champagne,  and 
devilish  mum. 

IX. 

That  evening  the  streets  about  the  hall  were 
so  crowded  that  you  could  scarcely  move  ;  and 
the  crowd  —  so  far  as  you  could  discern  it  by 
the  flickering  glare  of  gas-lamps  and  electric 
lights  —  looked  wicked.  Rough  fellows  surged 
all  about  the  corrugated  iron  walls  of  the  build- 
ing, pushing,  shouting,  jesting,  quarrelling,  quite 
beyond  the  control  of  what  few  policemen  ap- 
peared to  assert  the  dignity  of  the  law. 

Within  the  building,  though  I  came  there 
early,  the  seats  of  the  public  were  already  full 
of  a  company  unlike  what  I  had  seen  there 
before.  In  the  seat  that  until  now  had  been 
occupied  by  the  pretty  girl  with  red  feathers 
sat  a  rough  young  fellow  with  a  week's  beard 
and  a  collarless  flannel  shirt.  His  ragged  hat 
was  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  in  company  with 
others  of  his  kind  he  was  preparing  himself  for 


250  RankelVs  Remains. 

what  might  come  by  occasional  pulls  from  a 
brown  glass  bottle  shared  between  them.  Once 
or  twice  they  fell  to  horse-play.  At  last  the 
untidy  youth  was  somehow  dislodged  from  his 
seat,  to  arise  from  the  floor  with  a  flood  of 
indignant  eloquence  that  augured  ill  for  the 
future  of   those    about   him. 

From  time  to  time  came  from  without  the 
muffled  sound  of  such  rhythmical  shouts  as 
I  had  heard  when  I  watched  the  trumped-up 
demonstration  in  honor  of  Cox.  Nothing  but 
the  rhythm  penetrated  to  my  seat ;  yet  I  seemed 
to  hear  the  Babel  joining  in  articulate  cries  of 
"Cox!  Cox!— Bill  lee!  Cox!*' 

The  platform,  all  this  time,  was  half  empty. 
Like  myself,  I  suppose,  the  distinguished  guests 
had  found  difficulty  in  penetrating  the  crowd, 
and  many  had  given  up  in  despair.  But  the 
reporters  were  all  in  their  places,  and  delegates 
were  rapidly  coining  in,  —  some  with  torn  coats, 
—  and  the  band  was  playing  operatic  selections, 
almost  drowned  in  the  noisy  talk  of  the  assem- 
bled public. 


The   Convention.  251 


The  delegates  talked  excitedly  among  them- 
selves, most  of  them  standing,  or  pacing  such 
part  of  the  aisles  as  they  could  pass;  and  after 
a  little  while  I  found  myself,  still  full  of  my 
talk  with  Robbins,  watching  Rankell,  who  stood 
erect  in  his  place.  His  face  wore  its  most 
active  look;  every  fibre  of  his  small  body  — 
even  to  the  wisps  of  yellow  hair  that  roughly 
fringed  his  head  —  seemed  instinct  with  life. 
He  talked  right  and  left,  shaking  hands,  and 
constantly,  with  a  motion  that  seemed  habitual 
in  his  rare  moments  of  excitement,  throwing 
back  his  shoulders  and  bending  his  head  to- 
wards his  breast  until  his  bristling  yellow 
beard  curled  forward  to  meet  his  descending 
nose.  And  as  I  looked  at  him,  knowing  of  him 
all  I  knew,  and  as  I  watched  the  smiling  pride 
with  which  those  about  him  listened  to  the 
famous  little  creature's  words,  I  began  to  think 
of  him  as  of  a  venomous  spider  stretching  his 
golden  web  far  and  wide  across  this  whole  con- 
tinent of  America,  and  grinning  as  he  sees  his 
victims  quiver  in  the  meshes. 


252  RankelVs  Remains. 

The  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery  took 
his  seat  at  last.  As  he  rapped  the  Convention 
to  order  he  looked  more  Napoleonic  than  ever, 
possibly  by  way  of  precaution  against  the  rising 
vivacity  of  his  champagne.  And,  to  my  sur- 
prise, the  rough  company  that  had  invaded 
the  building  —  through  holes,  it  afterwards  ap- 
peared, cut  in  the  wall  by  the  lake-side  — ■  be- 
came as  quiet  as  lambs.  You  could  plainly  hear 
the  motion  that  the  Convention  now  proceed 
to  a  ballot,  and  indeed  all  the  formal  words 
that  preceded  the  call  of  the  States. 

The  clerk  stepped  forward,  then,  amid  per- 
fect silence,  and,  tally  in  hand,  called  out  in 
a  shrill  monotone  the  name  of  Alabama. 

On  the  informal  ballot,  as  everybody  remem- 
bered, Alabama  had  cast  all  her  twenty  votes 
for  Campbell.  Naturally  she  was  expected  to 
do  so  now.  General  Crowley  arose  with  a 
paper  in  his  hand. 

"Alabama,"  he  shouted,  bending  forward 
with  a  jerk  in  his  effort  to  be  audible,  "  gives 
nineteen  votes  to  Campbell — " 


The   Convention.  253 


Then  came  a  pause,  as  the  General  gathered 
his  breath. 

"And  one,"  he  went  on  pantingly,  "to 
William  D.  Cox." 

With  that  began  a  riot  that  made  such  riots 
as  had  come  before  seem  nothing.  At  first  it 
was  simply  a  yell  from  what  you  would  have 
thought  every  throat  in  the  building ;  at  any 
rate  there  were  so  many  that  the  noise  was 
incessant  for  minutes,  swelling  now  and  then, 
but  never  ceasing  its  shrill  inarticulate  utter- 
ance. The  whole  building  was  on  its  feet. 
Flags,  appearing  no  one  knew  whence,  waved 
wildly  on  every  side.  I  saw  the  dirty  fellow 
who  had  stolen  the  pretty  girl's  place  unsteadily 
standing  on  his  seat,  his  mouth  wide  open  for 
his  roar.  And  all  about  him,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  were  acting  likewise. 

Presently  the  noise  began  to  take  articulate 
form.  The  rhythmic  sound  that  I  had  heard 
from  without  faintly  arose  somewhere  in  the 
distance.  It  was  caught  up  by  more  voices  and 
more  ;  and  finally,  along  with  the  shrill  unceas- 


254  RankelVs  Remains. 

ing  yell  you  began  to  hear,  in  bass  monotone, 
solid  cries  of  "  Cox  !  Cox!  — Bill  lee!  Cox!" 

Minutes  passed,  and  tens  of  minutes,  with  no 
change.  Delegates  sprang  up  in  their  places 
and  peered  about  with  looks  of  startled  wonder. 
I  caught  sight  of  Hotchkiss,  frowning  his  stern- 
est and  sawing  the  air  with  his  arm  as  he  talked 
vigorously  to  those  about  him ;  of  Robbins,  no 
smile  left,  clutching  at  the  coat  of  a  delegate 
who  was  turning  from  him  ;  of  General  Bob 
Tompkins  standing  in  his  chair  and  waving  his 
flag  with  the  best  of  them.  I  could  see  the 
men  from  Alabama,  too,  clustering  about  big- 
General  Crowley;  and  Crowley  seemed  shouting 
at  them  as  he  waved  above  his  head  the  paper 
from  which  he  had  read  the  vote.  Finally,  in 
the  midst  of  all  I  saw  Rankell,  glasses  on  nose, 
coolly  writing  in  a  note-book.  From  this  he 
presently  tore  a  leaf  which  he  gave,  along  with 
a  coin  and  a  pat  on  the  back,  to  a  messenger 
who  was  standing  by.  And  as  the  messenger 
made  off,  Rankell  folded  his  arms  and  bent  his 
head  again  until  his  beard  curled  forward. 


The   Convention.  255 

By  and  by  the  shrill  yell  that  had  persisted 
throughout  the  clamor  began  to  subside.  Hu- 
man throats,  I  thought,  could  keep  it  up  no 
longer.  In  the  brief  intervals  between  the 
rhythmic  cries,  within  and  without,  of  "  Cox ! 
Cox  !  —  Bil !  lee  !  Cox !  "  there  came  something 
near  enough  silence  to  let  us  know  that  the 
band  had  begun  playing.  At  last  the  storm 
subsided  enough  to  make  audible  the  notes  of 
what  they  played. 

It  was  Cox's  battle-hymn,  "Rally  Round  the 
Flag."  In  an  instant  thousands  of  voices  took 
it  up.  Then,  mingling  with  the  chorus,  rose 
again  the  rlrythmical  shouts  of  "  Cox  ! "  Finally, 
above  all  and  louder  than  ever,  swelled  the 
shrill  inarticulate  cry  that  had  come  first.  And 
flags  waved. 

Just  then  I  saw  somebody  pass  to  Montgom- 
ery a  twisted  bit  of  paper.  And  Montgomery 
stopped  his  antic  pounding  on  the  desk  to 
glance  at  what  was  in  it;  then,  as  he  resumed 
his  pantomime,  he  looked  anxiously  towards  the 
delegates.     Following  his  eye,  I  saw  it  fixed  on 


256  RanltelVs  Remains. 

Rankell,  who  leaned  his  little  head  far  out  into 
the  aisle,  a  grin  of  excitement  on  his  wrinkled 
face  as  he  nodded  so  briskly  that  the  glasses 
fell  from  his  nose. 

A  minute  later  Montgomery  was  sitting  at 
his  desk,  scribbling  in  turn  for  dear  life.  Then 
he  called  a  messenger,  and  giving  him  what  he 
had  written,  pointed  with  his  thumb  towards 
the  spot  where  I  could  see  the  back  of  General 
Crowley's  long  hair. 

And  when  finally  the  noise  abated  it  was  be- 
cause the  General  had  faced  about  and  forced 
his  way  to  the  foot  of  the  platform  where  the 
clerk  stood  motionless  with  his  tally.  Here 
Crowley  waved  a  paper  above  his  head,  calling 
for  a  hearing ;  and  by  and  by  he  had  it.  But 
his  voice  was  gone  ;  only  the  clerk  could  hear 
what  he  said.  So  the  whole  assembly  waited 
breathless  for  the  impassive  monotone  in  which 
the  clerk  announced  the  news. 

"Alabama,"  he  sung  out,  "changes  her 
vote.  She  gives  twenty  votes  to  William  D. 
Cox." 


The  Convention.  257 


And  thereupon  for  another  half  hour  came 
the  shouts  for  Cox. 

They  carried  the  day.  When  the  roll-call 
was  ended  Cox  had  six  hundred  votes  out  of 
eight.  And  as  Hotchkiss  rose  to  move  that 
the  nomination  be  made  unanimous,  the  shouts 
that  greeted  him  almost  drowned  the  cannon 
that  in  the  park  by  the  lake-side  close  at  hand 
were  thundering  out  the  news  that  the  chief 
work  of  the  Conversion  was  done. 


X. 

And  this  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  Rankell. 
Just  what  part  he  played  in  this  monstrous 
drama  no  mere  looker-on  can  tell.  What  I 
saw  I  have  written  down,  leaving  unsaid  what 
I  and  others  guessed.  All  I  need  tell  besides 
is  that  when  the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Mont- 
gomery went  back  to  Alabama,  the  papers  told 
us  that  he  purchased  a  beautiful  residence  in 
Mobile. 

17 


V. 

THE  END   OF  KANKELL. 


I. 

A  S  the  autumn  that  followed  the  Convention 
wore  on,  the  papers  were  full  of  news. 
The  opposite  party  had  nominated  a  candidate 
as  honest  as  Campbell.  So  the  campaign  that 
was  fighting  for  the  suffrages  of  the  people, 
with  speeches  and  torches  and  money  spent 
no  one  knew  how,  was  after  all  much  what 
the  struggle  had  been  in  the  Convention.  And 
somehow,  in  spite  of  Cox  and  his  backers,  who 
talked  loudly  in  general  phrase  of  everything 
but  honesty,  and  waved  flags  amid  torrents  of 
military  metaphor  while  bands  played  their 
battle-hymn,  the  issue  slowly  grew  plainer. 
But  Cox  was  a  good  fellow  and  a  smart  man  ; 
and  the  party  behind  him  was  so  beautifully 
organized  that  a  nomination  might  practically 
be  considered  as  good  as  an  election.  Moral 
members  of  his   party,  too,  having  discovered 


262  BankelVs  Remains. 

that  his  opponent  had  as  a  youth  been  arrested 
in  a  state  of  intoxication,  undertook,  with  some 
success,  to  make  a  moral  issue  of  their  own. 
But  men  who  cared  for  the  honor  of  the  coun- 
try rallied  strongly,  speaking  and  printing  the 
naked  truth  about  Cox's  career.  And  day  by 
day  it  was  clearer  that  they  were  answered  by 
no  more  cogent  arguments  than  bands  and 
battle-flags.  So  people  who  could  be  roused 
to  think  for  themselves  took  to  thinking,  which 
was  the  last  thing  Mr.  Cox's  party  wanted. 

The  papers,  then,  were  full  of  political  news, 
finely  colored  to  suit  the  taste  of  readers  ;  and 
you  had  to  turn  to  the  inner  pages  for  anything 
else. 

By  and  by,  however,  another  matter  crowded 
to  the  first  columns  of  the  papers,  and  drove 
much  patriotic  eloquence  to  the  inner  pages, 
where  it  looked  out  of  place  among  European 
telegrams,  and  criminal  matters,  and  the  like. 
There  was  a  panic  in  wheat,  —  not  a  little 
flurry  such  as  I  had  seen  as  I  walked  with 
Robbins  past  the  Exchange,  but  a  great  trouble 


The  End  of  Rankell  263 


that   concerned    half   the    world.      The   people 
wanted  breadstuff.     The  supply  fell  short.     It 
was  locked   up  in  such  great  elevators  as  we 
had  seen  looming  through  the  smoke-clouds  as 
we  walked  beside  the  lake.     Who   held  it  no 
one    rightly   knew,  —  along    with   other   names 
there  were  whispers  of   RankeU's,  —  but   held 
it   was  until   hunger   should  make  men  ready 
to  pay  what  the  holders  chose   to  ask.     What 
that  might  be  nobody  could  tell ;  the  clickers 
ticked  out  rising  bids   and   no  sales.     And  I, 
when  I  read  this  news,  thought  often  of  the 
decent  little    figure  in   black  clothes  and    top- 
boots  that  I  had  seen  in  Sloane's  big  window 
listening  to  the  words  that  pushed  themselves 
past  the  broker's  vibrating  toothpick,  and  calmly 
rubbing  the  long,  shaven  upper  lip. 

One  afternoon  came  a  fresh  piece  of  news 
that  for  the  moment,  in  our  part  of  the 
world,  crowded  out  even  the  panic.  It  was 
a  cold,  drizzling  day,  when  the  flagged  side- 
walks were  slippery  with  mud  that  passing 
throngs  had  carried  thither  from  the  roadway. 


264  RanhelVs  Remains. 

As  I  passed  along  I  heard  newsboys  crying 
an  " Extra."  Catching  the  sound  of  RankelFs 
name,  I  called  a  shivering  little  freckled  bare- 
foot, and  bought  one  of  his  papers  to  see  what 
the  news  might  be.  Then,  with  my  damp 
umbrella  resting  on  one  shoulder,  I  stood  with 
my  back  to  a  shop-window;  and  while  endless 
streams  of  people  and  of  wagons  hurried  past 
me  I  read  what  had  happened. 

Rankell  was  dead.  That  very  morning  the 
colorless  little  creature  whose  touch  turned 
all  things  to  gold,  but  on  whose  head  no 
Midas  ears  ever  sprouted,  had  tramped  briskly 
as  ever  down  to  his  great  store.  He  had  peered 
about  as  was  his  custom,  letting  no  corner  escape 
his  sharp  eyes.  He  had  scolded  some  poor  girl 
who  came  late  to  her  work.  Then,  as  usual,  he 
had  passed  into  his  white-walled  office  and  shut 
the  ground-glass  door  behind  him.  That  was 
the  last  mortal  eyes  saw  of  him  in  life. 

When  hours  had  passed  and  he  gave  no  sign, 
a  clerk  had  gathered  courage  to  knock  at  his 
door ;    and   after   a    while,  having   no    answer, 


The  End  of  Bankett.  265 

he  had  timidly  opened  it  and  looked  in.  There, 
close  to  the  open  desk  strewn  with  papers,  lay 
Rankell.  His  stiff  hand  still  held  the  paper 
tape  that  clicked  from  the  ticker,  and  in  his 
fall  he  had  overturned  the  tall  basket  that  stood 
ready  to  receive  it.  So  he  lay  half  buried  under 
the  snake-like  rolls  that  told  what  men  would 
pay  for  his  wheat,  while  the  little  machine 
kept  ever  vomiting  down  more  and  more,  with 
such  sympathy  as  the  birds  showed  the  dead 
children  in  the  wood. 


II. 

He  had  a  grand  funeral  from  old  St. 
Peter's,  where  on  the  intervening  Sunday  an 
eloquent  doctor  of  divinity  had  said  many 
things  about  the  vanity  of  riches  and  the  im- 
portance of  attendance  at  divine  service.  In 
forty  years,  except  when  kept  away  from  town, 
Rankell  had  never  missed  a  Sunday  ;  the  con- 
gregation looked  with  sentiment  at  the  empty 
pew   over    whose    mahogany   rail    they    should 


266  RanhelVs  Remains. 


no  more  spy  the  bald  little  yellow  head.  All 
the  papers,  too,  had  printed  long  obituary  no- 
tices, dwelling  on  Rankell's  honorable  mer- 
cantile career ;  from  (he  day  when  he  bought 
his  first  recorded  bill  of  goods  lie  had  never 
once  hesitated  to  meet  his  obligations.  Who, 
wrote  the  editors,  can  hope  for  a  nobler  epitaph? 
So  said  the  public,  talking  in  streets,  and  shops, 
and  horse-cars,  and  hotels  of  his  great  enterprise 
and  his  great  success. 

But  I,  for  my  part,  thought  far  otherwise. 
What  I  knew  of  Rankell  was  only  what  had 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  an  indolent  fellow 
who  had  happened  once  or  twice  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  what  he  was  doing.  Those  whose 
lives  had  been  near  his  must  know  far  more 
than  I.  Yet  I  myself  knew  what  I  have  writ- 
ten. I  remembered  the  gracious  home  of  the 
Wybornes,  and  thought  of  the  staring  new  Ran- 
kellville  that  had  grown  about  the  blackened 
cellar,  full  of  weeds,  which  marked  the  spot 
where  their  house  had  stood.  I  thought  of 
Howard  in  his  grave,  of  Anna  as  she  used  to 


The  End  of  Rankell  267 

hurry  alone  through  the  darkening  streets.  I 
thought  of  the  Lottimers,  too,  simply  living 
their  thoughtless  lives  until  Rankell  played  the 
trick  that  brought  them  ruin,  —  of  how  the 
father,  with  a  broken  heart,  kissed  for  the  last 
time  the  faces  that  had  no  looks  of  love  for 
him ;  of  the  mother  dead  in  the  home  that 
charity  offered  the  homeless;  of  Sadie  dancing 
lewdly  before  whoever  paid  to  see  her  shame  ; 
of  Joe,  God  knew  where.  I  thought  of  the 
country  on  the  path  to  dishonor  if  the  work  of 
the  man  who  lay  dead  should  not  be  undone ; 
and  of  poor  children  moaning  for  the  bread 
that  was  locked  in  his  storehouses.  With  all 
this  there  was  only  one  picture  of  a  gentler 
kind,  and  even  that  was  comical;  for  I  could 
not  check  a  smile  as  I  thought  of  the  little 
creature  standing  in  the  churchyard  years  ago 
and  blowing  his  nose  with  a  big  red  handker- 
chief as  he  called  a  fine  day  that  dreary  morn- 
ing when  they  buried  Mary  Lee. 

This  was  no  time  for  mourning,  but  rather 
one  for  rejoicing,  when  at  last  he  could  meddle 


268  RankelVs  Remains. 

in  the  world  no  more.  Yet  when  the  day  for 
burying  Rankell  came,  I  found  myself  impelled 
by  a  curiosity  for  which  I  had  small  respect  to 
go  and  watch  this  last  scene  in  the  drama  of 
his  life. 


m. 


The  old  church  and  the  churchyard  were 
guarded  by  policemen,  who  allowed  no  one  to 
pass  in  without  a  black-edged  card  of  admission 
to  the  ceremony.  But  people  like  me,  un- 
worthy of  this  honor,  might  if  we  pleased 
stand  without  the  iron  fence  and  watch  what 
was  doing.  So  there  I  stood  that  sunny  au- 
tumn morning,  as  a  light  wind  blew  through 
the  thinning  branches  of  the  trees  and  crisp 
leaves  came  fluttering  down  to  the  tangled 
grass  between  the  gravestones. 

The  company  about  me  was  such  as  in  any 
great  city  gathers  at  hours  when  honest  work- 
ing people  are  busy  at  work.  There  were 
women   of  the  poorer   sort,  with  dirty  shawls 


The  End  of  EankelL  269 

flung  over  their  heads,  and  sometimes  with 
large  baskets  that  bothered  the  people  near 
them  ;  there  were  bold-faced,  shrill-voiced  girls 
in  cheap  finery  ;  there  were  barefoot  children 
in  rags,  and  boys  who  played  truant  for  the 
show ;  there  were  men,  too,  mostly  of  the 
rougher  kind,  with  brutal  faces  and  dull  eyes, 
jesting  with  one  another  and  with  such  women 
of  their  class  as  were  at  hand;  and  there  were 
odd  figures  emerged  no  one  knew  whence. 
Near  me  I  saw  a  blear-eyed  old  fellow,  whose 
pink  face  seamed  with  wrinkles  was  half  buried 
beneath  his  curly  snuff-brown  wig  and  the  dyed 
whiskers  that  showed  a  rim  of  white  between 
his  cheeks  and  the  blue-black  hair.  He  wore 
cotton  gloves,  and  as  he  blinked  at  the  spectacle 
about  him  he  rested  one  hand  on  a  gilt-headed 
black  cane.  Close  behind  him  stood  a  dull- 
looking  giant  of  a  man,  in  a  rough  flannel 
shirt  open  enough  at  the  neck  to  reveal  the 
swelling  muscles  of  his  sunburnt  chest.  His 
ragged  hat  was  pushed  back.  There  was  an 
ugly  scar  on  his  bald  forehead.     Above  his  dull 


270  RankelVs  Remains. 

blue  eyes  his  brow  was  knitted  in  a  frown 
that  would  have  made  his  face  wicked  but 
that  his  heavy  jaw  hung  feebly  open  and 
showed  a  tongue  too  big  for  his  coarse  mouth. 
As  he  stood  staring  over  the  shoulder  of  the 
blear-eyed  little  man  in  a  wig,  he  looked  half 
an  idiot.  Some  sailor  I  thought  he  must  be, 
not  yet  free  from  the  fumes  of  a  debauch. 

Such  a  company  jostled  one  another  and 
thrust  their  faces  close  to  the  iron  paling  of 
the  churchyard  as  we  stood  waiting  for  the 
last  rites.  Within  the  church}7ard  were  sex- 
ton's men  with  cords  and  shovels,  pottering 
about  the  little  pile  of  earth  and  the  great 
slate-stone  slab  that  had  been  taken  from  the 
mouth  of  the  tomb  where  Rankell  was  to  rest. 
And  from  the  gray  church  just  at  hand  came 
now  and  then  the  faint  sound  of  organ  music 
and  of  voices  chanting  funeral  hymns. 

By  and  by  there  was  a  bustle  about  the  doors 
of  the  church,  and  you  could  hear  the  thud  of 
bolts  as  the  sextons  drew  them  back.  Then 
through  the  opened  doors  the  organ  began  to  peal 


The  End  of  Banhell.  271 

out  the  "  Dead  March  in  Saul."  And  forth  be- 
tween the  Roman  columns  of  the  portico  came 
into  the  autumn  sunshine  a  stately  procession, 
which  turned  slowly  to  the  left  and  passed  down 
the  side-steps  into  the  churchyard.  The  crowd 
pressed  closer  than  ever  to  the  paling ;  they 
pushed  me  to  the  very  side  of  the  blear-eyed 
little  man  and  the  sunburnt  giant,  who,  as  his 
stupid  frown  grew  deeper,  looked  more  drunken 
still. 

So  the  procession  passed  into  the  churchyard. 
First  came  the  clergy  in  their  surplices,  and 
with  them  choir-boys,  followed  by  the  tall 
fellows  who  sang  bass.  Then  came  twelve  of 
the  most  eminent  men  in  America,  in  black 
coats,  with  broad  white  sashes  over  their  shoul- 
ders. These  were  the  pall-bearers.  Among 
them  I  saw  the  fish-like  pallid  face  of  Cox,  with 
worried  eyes  and  silky  white  hair.  Like  the 
rest,  he  carried  his  beaver  hat  in  his  hand ; 
and  his  face,  like  the  others,  —  which  we  all 
had  seen  in  picture-papers  and  the  windows  of 
photograph  shops, —  wore  an  expression  of  solem- 


272  RankelVs  Remains. 

nit}- .  After  the  pall-bearers  came  eight  clumsy 
porters  carrying  Rankell's  coffin.  This  was 
covered  with  a  purple  velvet  pall  embroidered 
with  a  large  silver  cross.  Then,  amid  the  roll- 
ing peals  of  the  funeral  march,  came  vestry- 
men; then  a  long  line  of  mourners,  of  lesser 
and  lesser  commercial  and  public  note.  And 
we  little  folk,  who  had  not  been  deemed  worthy 
of  the  black-edged  cards  of  summons,  stood  with- 
out, watching  the  elect  pass  into  the  church- 
yard. Somehow  I  found  myself  dreaming  of 
what  this  place  was  like  in  the  olden  time, 
when  St.  Peter's  still  looked  across  green 
country  fields  to  the  blue  rivers  still  unpol- 
luted with  the  trade  of  nations  and  the  un- 
speakable things  that  a  great  city  casts  into 
waters  that  flow  about  it. 

Then  the  clergymen  read  and  the  choir  sang 
the  last  lines  of  the  funeral  service,  as  the  sex- 
ton's men  lowered  old  Rankell  into  his  tomb. 

Just  then  I  saw  the  sunburnt  giant  grasp 
the  arm  of  the  bewigged  little  creature  in  front. 
And  as  the  startled  old  fellow  turned  about  in 


The  End  of  Rankell.  273 

alarm,  I  saw  that  the  other  did  not  look  him  in 
the  wrinkled  face  ;  but  beneath  the  frown  the 
pale  eyes  peered  into  vacancy  with  an  air  of 
terror,  as  if  they  had  once  seen  an  evil  spirit 
whose  image  had  burned  itself  into  them. 

"  Do  you  believe  there  is  a  Hell  ?  "  I  heard 
him  whisper,  in  such  half-articulate  tones  as 
you  utter  in  a  nightmare. 

The  little  man  shrunk  away  in  fright,  and 
I  stared  at  the  strange  creature.  Was  he  strayed 
from  some  mad-house,  or  only,  as  I  had  thought, 
shuddering  through  the  after-moments  of  some 
debauch  ?  The  little  man  in  dyed  whiskers 
shook  his  arm  as  if  to  escape,  but  found  him- 
self held  in  a  grip  as  firm  as  the  uncanny 
mariner's  who  forced  the  wedding-guest  to  hear 
his  tale. 

"Do  you  believe  there  is  a  Hell?"  repeated 
the  sunburnt  man  in  the  same  dreamy  voice. 
" 1  hope  there  is.  I  want  to  go  there  —  to  hear 
him  howl." 

"  I  heard  a  voice  from  Heaven,"  sang  the 
white-robed    choir  as   the   dry  leaves   fluttered 

18 


274  RankelVs  Remains. 


down  from  the  thinning  trees,  "  saying  unto  me, 
Write,  From  henceforth  blessed  are  the  dead 
who  die  in  the  Lord  :  even  so  saith  the  Spirit ; 
for  they  rest  from  their  labours." 

"I  knew  him,"  went  on  the  strange  man. 
"  Father  used  to  be  his  clerk.  If  it  was  n't  for 
him,  we  might  have  been  together  still,  —  father 
and  mother  and  Sadie  and  me.  It 's  his  work, — 
what 's  come  to  us.     I  knew  him." 

The  little  mummy  of  a  man  he  spoke  to  was 
trembling  from  head  to  foot.  What  the  words 
meant  he  could  not  know.  But  I,  who  had 
been  told  the  sfony  of  Joseph  Lottimer,  could 
guess  their  meaning ;  and,  seized  with  a  wish 
to  be  sure  that  my  guess  was  right,  I  touched 
the  clumsy  giant's  shoulder,  asking  who  he 
was. 

He  dropped  the  arm  of  the  frightened  old 
man,  who  slunk  away  as  far  as  the  crowd  would 
let  him.  He  turned  his  pale  eyes  on  me,  but 
their  look  never  met  mine. 

"  I  'm  nobody,"  he  said  thickly  ;  "  it 's  no  use 
remembering   who   I  am.      But  I   hope   there 


The  End  of  Rankell  275 


is  a  Hell.     I  want  to  go  there  —  to  hear  him 
howl." 

Then,  for  the  coffin  was  passed  from  sight 
down  the  granite  steps  of  the  tomb,  he  turned 
clumsily  away,  and  forced  his  path  with  lumber- 
ing motion  through  the  jesting  crowd. 


VI. 

THE  CHURCH   OF  SAINT  MARY 
THE  VIRGIN. 


I. 

*\T  7HEN  Rankell's  will  was  read  everybody 
stared.  To  be  sure,  the  whole  world 
knew  that  he  left  no  kin  nor  any  friend  behind ; 
and  some  had  ventured  to  guess  that  now  per- 
haps some  great  public  work  might  arise,  to  bear 
witness  in  time  to  come  that  under  Rankell's 
rusty  frock-coat  a  human  heart  had  beaten  after 
all.     But  nobody  expected  what  came. 

All  that  Rankell  had  —  lands  and  stores  and 
moneys  —  he  left  to  a  little  company  of  shrewd 
men  who  were  to  make  themselves  into  a  cor- 
poration and  elect  successors  to  the  end  of  time. 
Drawing  fine  large  salaries,  they  might  sell  and 
invest  and  in  all  ways  treat  as  seemed  wise  the 
property  they  were  to  manage.  But  when  it 
came  to  spending,  they  must  always  associate 
with  themselves  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  aud 
two  others  whom  he  should  appoint,  and  three 


280  RankeU's  Remains. 

artists  who  might  always  name  their  successors. 
With  the  advice  of  these  RankeU's  millions  were 
to  be  spent. 

And  this  is  how:  In  Rankell  ville  still  lay 
vacant  the  weedy  spot  where  the  old  Wyborne 
house  had  stood.  Hither  were  to  be  sum- 
moned a  concourse  of  artists,  to  compete  with 
one  another  making  plans  for  a  church  that 
should  have  no  equal.  This  church  was  to  be 
dedicated  to  Saint  Mary  the  Virgin.  In  the 
midst  of  the  church  the  rarest  artist  of  all 
was  to  make  a  tomb  covered  with  precious 
sculpture ;  and  in  that  tomb  Rankell  should 
finally  lie. 

RankeU's  fortune  proved  not  so  large  as  re- 
port had  made  it,  but  for  all  that  larger  than 
any  other  of  his  time.  In  this  God-fearing  land, 
too,  the  cynical  remarked,  religious  foundations 
are  not  taxed,  and  every  cent  would  tell.  So 
there  was  money  enough  to  support  the  lucky 
clergy  who  should  find  themselves  in  the  nest 
that  Rankell  had  feathered  so  warmly.  There 
was  money  enough  to  keep  the  pile  in  repair  so 


St.  Mary's  Church.  281 

long  as  the  earth  should  be  in  good  enough 
repair  to  hold  it.  And  there  was  more  than 
enough  to  pay  the  trustees,  —  bishops,  artists, 
and  all,  —  and  to  build  the  church  of  Saint 
Mary  the  Virgin  in  such  manner  as  Rankell 
directed. 

n. 

For  the  most  part  people  were  pleased.  The 
poorer  sort,  even  though  no  good  came  to  them, 
were  glad  to  see  a  vast  fortune  taken  forever 
from  the  hands  of  single  men.  The  clergy, 
the  architects,  and  those  in  general  who  cared 
for  sentimental  and  aesthetic  matters  thought 
RankelPs  plan  admirable.  To  speak  against 
it  argued  that  you  were  unphilanthropic,  or 
lacking  in  taste,  or,  worse  still,  possessed  of 
an  irreverent  spirit. 

But  I,  for  my  part,  could  think  only  of  what 
Rankell  had  been  in  life  and  of  what  now  he 
would  seem  in  death.  With  no  thought  except 
for  himself  and  for  what  he  could  lay  his  clutch- 
ing hands  on,  he  had  toddled  through  the  world 


282  RanhelVs  Remains. 

on  his  short  legs,  smiling  with  a  smile  in  which 
nobody  joined,  until  the  cunning  lines  grew  into 
furrows  about  his  sharp  eyes.  And  now,  with 
no  thought  but  for  himself  even  to  the  end,  he 
was  to  rest  in  peace  among  precious  sculptures, 
his  memory  hallowed  by  the  thoughts  of  those 
who  in  the  house  of  his  building  reverently 
listened  to  the  praise  of  God.  By  and  by  no- 
body would  think  of  him  apart  from  the  holi- 
ness with  which  he  should  lie  surrounded.  His 
relics  would  grow  precious.  Those  who  knew 
of  him  only  this  last  work  that  alone  would 
survive,  would  dream  lying  dreams  of  a  holy 
life  that  came  to  this  holy  ending.  So,  as 
other  times  than  ours  came  upon  the  world,  his 
name,  which  most  of  all  should  be  forgotten, 
would  live  on,  desecrating  the  sanctity  he  had 
reared  about  it. 

III. 

Such  thoughts  as  these  were  in  my  mind  and 
on  my  tongue  when  I  heard  the  last  news  of 
him  that  has  ever  come   to  me.     And  as  this 


St.  Mary's  Church.  283 

was  in  some  measure  different  from  what  I  have 
told  of  late,  I  must  not  keep  myself  from  writ- 
ing it  here. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  when  at  last  the 
people  made  choice  between  Cox,  with  his  clev- 
erness and  his  trickery,  and  the  other  candidate, 
who  at  least  was  honest,  a  little  party  gathered 
to  hear  the  despatches  that  began  to  tell  whether 
torches  and  shouts  and  battle-hymns  had  won 
the  day,  or  the  honest  thought  we  had  striven 
to  arouse.  For  a  long  time  this  was  doubtful ; 
and  as  we  sat  talking  of  what  might  come,  I 
fell  to  telling  what  I  had  seen  of  Rankell  at  the 
Convention,  and  then  to  speaking  of  him  as  I 
have  just  written. 

In  the  company  was  one  whom  until  lately 
none  of  us  had  seen  for  a  long  time.  This  was 
Dudley,  —  the  same  who,  when  we  were  boys, 
used  to  stay  at  the  Wybornes',  and  who  drew 
the  little  sketch  of  big-booted  Hastings  making 
his  first  bow.  Years  ago  he  had  gone  abroad 
to  study  nobody  quite  remembered  what.  And 
long  after  other  men  had  begun  the  active  work 


284  RanhelVs  Remains. 

of  life  he  had  stayed  there,  still  studying,  until 
those  who  sometimes  spoke  of  him  surmised 
that  he  doubtless  knew  everything.  Lately  he 
was  come  home  at  last,  —  a  slight,  pale  man  with 
a  broad  forehead,  and  a  dark  beard  parted  in 
the  middle.  And  he  had  quite  upset  the  sur- 
mise of  his  friends  by  announcing  that  when  he 
finished  his  studies  he  purposed  practising  the 
art  of  architecture.  As  yet,  he  said,  he  could 
not  pretend  to  be  more  than  a  critic.  The  only 
things  he  had  approached  mastering  were  two 
or  three  schools  of  mediaeval  church-building. 
He  was  come  home  now,  preparatory  to  another 
period  of  study,  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  what 
the  genius  of  the  American  people  demanded. 
He  was  satisfied  already  that  he  had  made  a 
false  start ;  that  churches  were  as  much  things 
of  the  past  as  Greek  temples.  The  typical 
building  of  the  future,  he  began  to  think,  was 
the  public  library. 

Dudley  talked  well  when  he  chose,  but 
oftener  chose  to  display  his  consummate  mas- 
tery   of   the    art    of  listening.      So    everybody 


St  Mary's  Church.  285 

liked  him,  and  he  had  an  acquaintance  among 
the  most  unexpected  kind  of  people.  For  all 
this,  everybody  was  surprised  when  one  of  the 
three  artists  named  by  Rankell's  will  to  super- 
vise the  building  of  his  church  —  drawing  envi- 
able salaries  the  while  —  turned  out  to  be  this 
same  Dudley.  A  little  before  the  Convention, 
it  appeared,  something  had  called  Rankell  for  a 
few  weeks  to  England.  Here  he  had  fallen  in 
with  Dudley,  and  they  had  come  home  in  the 
same  steamer. 

Dudley  declined  the  appointment.  It  would 
interfere  with  his  study,  he  said;  besides,  he  did 
not  yet  feel  competent  to  deal  with  so  grave  a 
responsibility  as  Rankell  cast  on  him.  Still,  he 
was  not  averse  to  talking  of  the  old  fellow,  and 
he  talked  more  kindly  than  most.  So  now, 
when  he  heard  me  inveighing  with  more  vehe- 
mence than  taste  against  a  still  green  memory, 
he  interposed.  So  far  as  Rankell  had  shoAvn 
himself  in  their  short  acquaintance,  he  said,  the 
man  was  by  no  means  as  purely  vicious  as  I 
made  him  out. 


286  BankelPs  Remains. 

"Any  way,"  said  Dudley,  "it  seems  to  me 
that  you  draw  him  a  shade  too  simply  for  truth. 
Psychological  fact  involves  more  inconsistency, 
don't  you  think  ?  " 

Then  he  went  on  to  give  us  a  glimpse  of  what 
he  called  another  phase  of  Kankell,  telling  how 
they  met. 

IY. 

It  was  in  an  old  English  town,  on  the  road 
from  London  to  one  of  the  manufacturing  dis- 
tricts, far  enough  from  both  to  keep  itself  un- 
spotted from  the  dust  of  either,  not  so  far  as 
to  keep  disturbing  modern  energy  from  being 
drawn  away  in  one  direction  or  the  other.  So 
it  still  remains  a  quiet,  sleepy  place,  clustering 
about  its  tall  cathedral.  Here  one  day  were 
gathered  in  the  choir,  for  some  local  festival, 
half  the  church  singers  in  the  diocese;  and  nave 
and  aisles  wrere  full  of  people  standing  about 
the  Gothic  chantries,  and  the  quaint  slabs  where 
crusaders  lay  with  their  mailed  hands  on  their 
sword-hilts,  while  the  music  rose  full  and  clear 


St.  Mary's   Church.  287 

to  the  groined  roof.  Here  Dudley  first  saw 
Rankell,  not  guessing  who  he  was.  The  little 
man  stood  beside  the  effigy  of  one  William 
Longspear,  who  came  back  from  Palestine  to 
die  in  peace  under  the  Plantagenets ;  and  Ran- 
kell had  laid  his  rusty  beaver  hat  on  the 
crossed  feet  of  the  crusader,  so  that  nobody 
should  sit  or  tread  on  it ;  then,  with  his  hands 
loosely  crossed  in  front,  he  was  looking  intently 
at  the  carved  oaken  stalls  and  benches  full  of 
white-robed  singers,  and  now  and  then  slowly 
bowed  his  head  as  if  in  approval  of  the  an- 
thems. Once  or  twice  his  eyes  grew  moist, 
and  he  slowly  drew  out  a  large  handkerchief 
and  wiped  them  with  deliberation ;  whether 
this  moisture  was  due  to  emotion,  or  to  the  sun- 
light that  streamed  through  a  painted  window 
close  at  hand,  was  not  apparent. 

Dudley's  curiosit}^  was  stirred  by  this  emo- 
tional little  man,  whom  he  guessed  to  be  one 
of  those  obscure  unfortunates  whose  broken 
lives  find  comfort  in  the  venerable  sanctuaries 
of  the  English  Church.     There  are  plenty  such 


288  BankeWs  Remains. 

in  cathedral  towns  never  missing  a  service, 
And  Dudley  found  the  little  figure  so  typical 
that  he  permitted  himself  to  stare  at  it  until 
the  devout  old  man  grew  aware  of  his  attention, 
and  looking  up  reminded  him  of  his  manners 
by  dryly  muttering,  "  How  d-e  do,  sir  ?  " 

The  voice  and  manner  were  so  unlike  what 
Dudley  had  expected,  that  when  the  service 
was  over  he  ventured  to  address  the  small  man, 
hoping  to  find  what  manner  of  person  he  really 
was.  His  speech  was  some  commonplace  about 
the  rare  beauty  of  the  cathedral  with  its  rich- 
toned  windows,  and  its  towers  and  buttresses 
overgrown  with  glossy  ivy. 

"  Handsome  edifice,  sir,"  assented  the  little 
man.     "  Know  it  well,  sir  ?  " 

This  sudden  and  incongruous  betrayal  of 
nationality  would  have  disconcerted  anybody 
whose  sensibility  was  less  genuine  than  Dud- 
ley's. But  he,  more  interested  than  ever  at 
hearing  what  seemed  like  honest  sentiment  thus 
expressed  in  the  dialect  of  Broadway  omni- 
buses, answered  that  he  knew  the  place  a  little 


St.  Mary's  Church.  289 

and  was  about  to  look  at  it  with  care  ;  would 
his  new  friend  join  him  ? 

"  Well,"  said  Rankell,  deliberately,  "  I  don't 
care  if  I  do.     I  'm  a  stranger  here  myself." 

So  together,  with  an  untidy  verger  who 
emerged  from  behind  a  pillar,  they  spent  a 
long  time  in  the  old  church;  and  Dudley,  find- 
ing his  companion  eager  to  learn,  talked  much 
about  the  growth  of  the  pile.  He  showed  the 
heavy  round  arches  that  had  first  been  reared ; 
then  he  pointed  out  how  those  who  continued 
the  work  found  their  thoughts  soaring  higher, 
and  so  the  pointed  arches  came ;  then  there 
was  decorated  work  full  of  the  aspiration  of 
a  throbbing  faith;  then,  as  the  heat  of  enthu- 
siasm waned,  came  the  cold  perpendicular  win- 
dows and  central  tower.  Then  the  empty 
niches  and  the  whitened  walls  told  the  story 
of  iconoclasm  and  Puritan  sternness.  And 
there  was  a  fine  new  reredos  covered  with 
mystical  sculpture,  that  spoke  of  Oxford  in 
the  times  when  men  who  are  now  old  believed 
that  they  should  make  the  world  better  than 

19 


290  RanhelVs  Remains. 

it  was  in  their  youth.  Finally,  from  a  restored 
capital  there  grinned  at  them  the  distorted 
countenance  of  a  living  statesman  whose  eye- 
glass we  have  all  seen  in  Punch,  and  whose 
portrait  was  held  to  be  a  masterpiece  of  gro- 
tesque, conceived  in  the  true  medieval  spirit. 

Rankell  asked  a  number  of  questions  that 
displayed  intelligence,  but  made  no  comments ; 
and  except  that  Dudley  found  appreciative 
listening  a  pleasant  surprise,  the  talk  was  dis- 
appointing. But  in  the  end  Rankell  wished 
him  good-day  in  a  way  that  he  felt  touching. 
Hesitating  a  moment,  the  little  man  timidly 
held  out  his  wrinkled  hand. 

"  It 's  a  big  thing  to  a  man  like  me,  sir,"  he 
said,  "  to  come  across  somebody  who  knows 
what  he  's  talking  about.  I  don't  know  much 
myself,  sir,  and  I  like  to  be  told.  Good- 
morning,  sir." 

With  that  Rankell  lifted  his  hat  and  trudged 
off  across  the  close,  disappearing  through  a  war- 
like Norman  gateway.  And  Dudley,  remaining 
awhile    to   sketch    some   details   of  the    porch, 


St.  Mary's   Church.  291 

wondered  who  his  quaint  little  friend  might 
he. 

"  What  impressed  me  most,"  said  Dudley, 
"  was  that  I  could  not  help  talking  to  him  ; 
so,  you  see,  he  must  have  been  really  sym- 
pathetic." 

On  the  steamer  coming  home,  as  I  have  said, 
Dudley  met  Rankell  again.  His  aspect  was 
changed.  Americans  were  on  board  who  looked 
at  a  millionnaire  with  such  respect  as  the  British 
feel  for  a  lord.  And  Rankell  appeared  comi- 
cally conscious  of  dignity  as  he  tramped  the 
deck  in  his  low-cut  black  waistcoat,  nodding 
curtly  under  his  black  silk  travelling-cap  to  such 
fortunate  fellow-passengers  as  he  happened  to 
know.  For  several  days  he  ignored  Dudley  ; 
but  at  last,  as  Dudley  sat  watching  a  cloudless 
sunset,  he  heard  a  sharp  little  voice  wishing 
him  good-evening.  And  there  was  Rankell, 
who  professed  much  pleasure  in  finally  assuring 
himself  that  Dudley  was  the  gentleman  with 
whom  he  had  inspected  the  cathedral. 

He  fell  to  talking:  of  this  at  once  ;  and  from 


292  RanhelVs  Remains. 

that  time  on,  though  they  talked  much,  he 
always  led  the  talk  to  the  same  subject. 

"  It's  the  biggest  thing  in  England,  sir,"  he 
kept  repeating.  "  I've  visited  'em  all,  and  there 
is  n't  another  that  can  hold  a  candle  to  it." 

He  asked  unexpected  questions  about  the 
old  place,  —  among  others,  for  whom  it  was 
named.  Dudley,  thinking  he  referred  to  the 
town  where  the  church  stood,  began  an 
explanation  which  displayed  knowledge  of 
Anglo-Saxon. 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  interrupted  Rankeli  ; 
"  I  read  that  in  the  guide-book,  sir.  I  .mean 
the  building.  The  book  says  it  was  dedicated 
to  Saint  Mary  the  Virgin.  Is  that  the  same 
as  the  Virgin   Mary  ?  " 

Dudley  believed  it  was. 

"  I  s'posed  so,"  said  Rankeli.  "  I  understand 
the  edifice  was  erected  by  the  Catholics.  Only 
I  wondered  whether  there  was  any  other  Mary 
they  might  have  named  it  for,  —  somebody  they 
knew,  for  instance, — somebody  that  lived  there 
once." 


St.  Mary's  Church  293 

Dudle}'  went  on  to  explain  how  the  founders 
of  the  old  religious  houses  used  to  name  them 
after  their  patron  saints  instead  of  themselves 
and  their  friends.  Rankell  listened  thought- 
fully. 

"It's  a  real  pretty  idea,"  he  said.  "The 
name  sounds  a  sight  better  than  if  it  was  the 
Mary  So-and-so  Memorial,  don't  it?" 

So  day  after  day  they  talked  about  the  ven- 
erable place  where  they  first  met,  and  Rankell 
kept  saying  that  we  ought  to  have  something 
of  the  kind  in  America.  Dudley  tried  to  point 
out  the  impossibility  of  such  a  thing.  A  great 
church  means  a  great  sacrifice  of  time  and 
thought  and  money.  It  can  grow  only  in  a  time 
when  the  lives  of  thousands  are  consecrated  to 
the  work.  But  this  was  too  deep  for  Rankell, 
who  persisted  in  asserting  that  the  church  in 
question  was  a  big  thing,  that  we  ought  to  have 
things  like  it  in  America,  and  that  in  his  opinion 
there  was  a  growing  demand  for  them. 

When  the  steamer  reached  America  they 
parted.     Dudley  never  saw  Rankell  again.     His 


294  RankelVs  Remains. 

surprise  at  the  honor  paid  him  in  the  will  was 
as  great  as  anybody's. 

"  But  I  was  touched,  too,"  he  said  in  conclu- 
sion. "  The  old  fellow  may  have  been  a  skin- 
flint, if  you  please,  or  even  an  out-and-out 
knave.  But  there  was  this  other  side  to  him ; 
and  this  church  he  wanted  built  shows  it  was 
genuine." 

V. 

Dudley  told  his  story  so  sympathetically  that 
it  touched  us  all  for  the  moment ;  and  I,  who 
could  recall  what  Mr.  Wy borne  told  of  Mary 
Lee,  began  to  wonder  whether  in  my  warmth 
I  had  quite  done  justice  to  the  grotesque  little 
man  who  lay,  fresh  in  death,  in  St.  Peter's 
churchyard.  But  just  then  despatches  about 
the  elections,  coming  thick  and  fast,  began  to 
show  that  there  was  small  room  for  hope  that 
Cox  was  beaten.  And  when  we  parted,  with 
little  belief  that  the  next  day's  news  would 
prove  the  people  to  have  thought  honestly, 
Rankell  was  once  more  in   my  mind  what  he 


St.  Marys   Church.  295 

had  been  when  I  last  saw  him  alive.  As  I 
made  my  way  home  through  streets  where  the 
name  of  Cox  was  in  everybody's  mouth,  there 
kept  rising  before  me  a  picture  of  the  Conven- 
tion as  I  had  seen  it,  with  hired  fellows  shouting 
and  waving  flags,  and  frightened  delegates  in 
pale  disorder,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  turmoil  a 
grinning  little  bald  yellow  head  nodding  its 
gold  glasses  off  its  nose  as  it  caught  the  eye  of 
the  Hon.  Cneius  P.  M.  Montgomery. 

And  this  aspect  of  Rankell,  which  was  what 
I  had  grown  used  to,  was  what  stayed  by  me. 
It  was  with  no  pleasure,  then,  that  I  read 
how  there  was  a  famous  competition  of  designs 
for  the  Church  of  Saint  Mary  the  Virgin,  and 
what  more  was  told  of  the  structure.  The 
work  was  begun,  and  day  after  day  and  year 
after  year  it  grew.  In  summer-time,  when  the 
papers  lacked  news,  there  were  long  descrip- 
tions of  its  progress.  We  read  how  the  corner- 
stone was  laid,  and  how  the  foundations  were 
finished,  and  how  the  walls  and  the  roof  rose, 
and    how    the    stone    floor    was    put   in   place. 


296  RarikelVs  Remains. 

We  read  statistics  of  the  cost  of  all  this,  and 
of  the  numbers  of  otherwise  penniless  labor- 
ers who  could  find  work  on  the  pile.  More 
and  more  we  read  sentimental  eulogies  of  the 
great  benevolence  and  the  sterling  piety  of  the 
dead  millionnaire  whose  will  was  thus  coming  to 
pass. 

But  to  me,  Rankell  was  still  the  Rankell  I 
had  known.  And  my  temper  rose  in  anger 
when  at  last  I  began  to  read  that  the  Church  of 
Saint  Mary  the  Virgin  was  almost  finished  ;  and 
finally  how,  on  a  certain  day  early  in  the  coming 
spring,  all  that  remained  of  Rankell  was  to  be 
taken  from  the  simple  tomb  under  the  trees  of 
St.  Peter's  churchyard,  and  with  grand  music 
and  solemn  prayers  to  be  laid  to  rest  for  all 
time  to  come  in  the  great  stone  sepulchre  that 
the  cunningest  workmen  in  the  world  had  built 
to  hold  it. 


VII. 
RANKELL'S    REMAINS. 


/^\NE  night,  a  little  before  the  time  fixed  for 
the  translation,  there  came  such  a  storm  as 
men  remember  for  years.  The  spirits  of  all  the 
dead  heretics  cast  forth  into  the  upper  air  could 
not  have  made  fiercer  weather.     Even  the  nie-tit- 

o 

birds  who  flit  about  great  cities  fled  back  to 
their  unhallowed  nests.  The  watchman  who 
paced  up  and  clown  before  St.  Peter's  church- 
yard made  sure  that  no  living  tiling  would  ven- 
ture out  to  spy  him  ;  so  he  slunk  into  the  driest 
corner  of  the  church  porch,  where  he  pulled 
his  cap  about  his  ears,  and  shivered,  and  swung 
his  arms  across  his  chest,  until  dawn  came  and 
drove  away  the  tempest.  Then,  when  the  sun 
peeped  between  the  scurrying  clouds,  the  streets 
were  full  of  brown  slush  that  had  fallen  in  snow 
white  as  an  infant's  soul,  and  had  been  tossed 
and   trampled   and    buffeted   into   the   thing    it 


300  BankelVs  Remains. 


was.  And  down  the  gutters  ran  muddy  streams 
which  poured  baby  cataracts  into  the  grated 
mouths  of  the  sewers,  sweeping  along  to  the 
greasy  rivers  the  hideous  things  that  would  have 
stopped  their  flow.  These  the  tides  wash  back 
and  forth  until  at  last  they  sink  down  in  the 
black  mud,  there  to  wallow  through  years  with- 
out end,  while  fresh  corruption  ever  settles 
down  above  them  burying  them  deeper  and 
deeper  still. 

When  the  watchman  ventured  out  from  St. 
Peter's  porch  he  saw  a  sight  that  sent  him  on 
the  run  for  the  police  ;  and  the  police  came 
on  the  run,  along  with  enterprising  reporters. 
And  the  morning  papers  published  extra  edi- 
tions —  profitable  to  stockholders  —  telling 
what  had  happened. 

In  the  midst  of  the  smoky  mist  that  curled 
up  from  the  churchyard  mire  lay  a  little  heap 
of  muddy  sod,  freshly  dug.  Beside  it  Rankell's 
tomb  stood  open,  its  great  slate-stone  cover 
cracked  in  two  by  some  giant  blow.  At  the 
foot    of    the    granite   steps,   down   which   the 


RankelVs  Remains.  301 

churchyard  wet  was  trickling  into  dank  pools, 
lay  the  broken  coffin,  its  satin  lining  covered 
with  stains  where  the  corruption  of  death 
mingled  with  the  droppings  of  the  tempest. 
And  of  Rankell  there  was  nothing  left  except 
one  tuft  of  faded  yellow  hair  that  had  caught 
on  a  nail  as  his  unwelcome  visitors  had  drawn 
him  from  the  bed  where  he  had  thought  to  lie 
so  snug. 

II. 

Ghastly  black-mail,  the  papers  called  the 
deed.  And  preachers  sighed  out  despairing 
questions:  to  what  depth  of  wickedness  will 
not  the  greed  of  money  bring- evil-minded  men? 
No  one  doubted  what  the  news  meant.  Some 
band  of  rascals,  knowing  with  all  the  world 
what  a  fortune  the  lucky  corporation  held  who 
were  building  the  church  of  Saint  Mary  the 
Virgin,  had  plotted  to  have  a  part  of  it  for 
themselves.  Stealing  through  the  storm  they 
had  crept  between  the  broken  bars  of  the  iron 
paling.      What   noise   they   made   in   breaking 


302  BankelVs  Remains. 

them  was  lost  in  the  roaring  of  the  tempest. 
Then  with  skilful  hands  they  had  turned  back 
the  sod,  and  coming  to  the  slate-stone  slab 
they  had  broken  it  with  some  heavy  tool,  so 
that  they  might  lift  it  with  more  ease.  Then 
they  had  slunk  down  the  steps,  with  lanterns 
they  dared  light  at  last ;  and  by  the  strong  light 
that  a  turn  of  the  hand  could  darken  if  (he 
guard  they  left  without  spoke  a  warning  word, 
they  had  pried  open  the  silver-nailed  coffin  and 
looked  on  the  shrunken  face  of  the  dead.  With 
that,  perhaps,  they  had  stopped  for  a  moment, 
sick  with  the  horror  of  what  they  did ;  very 
likely  they  were  roused  again  only  by  the  voice 
of  the  guard,  who  peering  down  asked  what 
checked  the  work.  They  were  gone  too  far  to 
turn  back ;  so  nerving  themselves,  and  thinking 
of  what  profit  would  come  when  all  was  clone, 
they  had  braved  the  sanctity  of  death  and  the 
horror  of  corruption,  and  had  rudely  pulled  the 
sickly  thing  from  its  coffin  and  dragged  it  up 
the  granite  steps.  There  a  coarse  bag  lay  ready 
for  it;  so  in  they  thrust   it  in   the  darkness. 


RankelVs  Remains.  80o 


Then  with  their  grisly  treasure  they  had  hur- 
ried off  through  the  storm ;  and  so  waited  now 
until  they  could  have  what  terms  they  might 
ask. 

All  this  was  clear  enough,  and  finely  written 
up  in  the  papers.  But  who  the  ghouls  were, 
or  how  many,  nobody  could  guess.  There  was 
much  virtuous  talk  at  first ;  not  a  cent  should 
the  rascals  have,  but  they  should  be  hunted 
down  and  punished  with  all  the  severity  our 
merciful  law  allows.  A  great  army  of  detec- 
tives were  set  on  their  track.  But  days  went 
by,  and  weeks,  and  months ;  and  all  the  detec- 
tives found  was  what  they  found  the  very  first 
day.  Then  one  of  them  had  spied  a  half-starved 
cur  licking  the  stone  of  the  churchyard  wall 
close  by  where  the  paling  was  broken.  And 
looking  to  see  what  the  greedy  creature  found, 
he  had  driven  off  the  brute,  who  slunk  growling 
away  and  sat  hungrily  watching  on  the  curb- 
stone. There,  on  the  edge  of  the  wall,  was  a 
stain  which  by  and  by  the  chemists  said  might 
have   oozed  from  what  had  once   been  human 


304  MankelVs  Remains. 

flesh.  And  that  was  all  the  detectives  ever 
found  of  Rankell. 

So  at  last,  when  the  papers  declared  it  was 
evident  that  detectives  could  not  detect,  people 
began  to  say  that  the  rogues  must  have  their 
way.  A  man  like  Rankell  must  never  be  suf- 
fered to  lie  unknown  so  long  as  there  was 
money  left  to  bring  him  to  the  light.  The  cor- 
poration of  the  new  church  that  still  lay  uncon- 
secrated  had  stormy  meetings.  Finally  came 
advertisements  asking  what  sum  was  demanded 
for  the  return  of  the  body  that  had  been  stolen. 
And  when  these  brought  no  answer  there 
followed  others,  promising  at  last,  along  with 
sums  that  made  us  all  stare,  that  those  who 
brought  back  what  was  left  of  Rankell  should 
go  free.. 

But  even  this,  which  people  now  declared  was 
the  least  that  a  pious  regard  for  the  dead  could 
decently  demand,  met  with  no  more  success 
than  the  threats  and  the  questions.  Nothing, 
it  seemed,  could  bring  Rankell  to  the  light 
again. 


RankelVs  Remains.  305 

What  all  this  meant  nobody  rightly  knew. 
But  at  last  people  came  to  believe  that  the 
body-snatchers,  vile  as  they  might  be,  were  sick 
with  shame  and  horror  at  what  they  had  done. 
It  is  one  thing  to  dig  up  a  dead  nobody  for  the 
doctors  to  dissect ;  it  is  far  another  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  mortal  remains  of  an  eminent 
citizen  whose  sterling  piety  has  written  itself  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  in  characters  of  carven 
stone.  The  most  hardened  must  shrink  from 
confessing  even  to  themselves  such  a  deed  as 
that.  It  is  the  most  unspeakable  of  sins  un- 
speakable. So  this,  people  guessed,  is  why  to 
this  day  Rankeli's  grand  stone  sepulchre  stands 
empty  under  the  fretted  roof  that  was  built  to 
hold  it. 

III. 

But  for  all  that  Rankell  was  gone,  the 
Church  of  Saint  Mary  the  Virgin  stood  ready 
for  the  service  of  the  Lord,  with  its  twin  towers, 
and  its  painted  glass,  and  its  dim  aisles,  and 
its  organ  with  three  unique  stops.  A  Doctor  of 
20 


306  RanheWs  Remains. 

Music,  too,  —  who  was  a  famous  philosopher  into 
the  bargain,  —  was  come  from  Germany  to  play 
the  organ  for  the  highest  salary  on  record ;  and 
a  corps  of  parsons  as  sound  as  country  eggs  had 
been  appointed  to  conduct  the  services.  So  one 
day  a  glorious  company  of  lawn-sleeved  bishops, 
along  with  a  goodly  fellowship  of  surpliced 
presbyters,  and  a  noble  army  of  professional 
singers,  came  to  consecrate  the  church.  And 
as  all  the  world  went  to  Rankellville  to  see 
the  sight  I  went  too. 

Dudley,  who  had  a  ticket  of  admission  to  one 
of  the  best  seats,  went  with  me.  Once  or  twice 
since  he  came  home  with  Rankell  he  had  flitted 
back  and  forth  from  Europe.  His  studies  puz- 
zled him,  he  said ;  the  conditions  of  American 
life  were  so  like  those  of  the  Old  World,  and  yet 
so  different,  that  it  was  hard  to  decide  just  how 
far  the  old  models  would  serve  him  for  serious 
work.  He  needed  constantly  to  refresh  his  im- 
pressions both  here  and  there.  When  at  home 
he  had  liked  to  watch  the  growth  of  the  church 
in  whose  building  he  would  have  no  hand.     He 


RankelTs  Remains.  307 

would  talk  of  it  in  a  vein  that  some  thought 
absurdly  mystical. 

"  Rankell  was  right,"  he  said  once,  "and  I 
was  wrong.  A  real  church  can  be  built  to-day. 
What  misled  me  was  that  the  motive  is  so  rare 
that  I  thought  it  dead.  A  church,  you  know, 
must  be  the  outcome  of  thousands  of  life-works. 
The  old  churches,  we  like  to  think,  were  the 
outcome  of  consciously  devoted  lives.  This  one 
has  all  the  lives  behind  it,  but  they  never  knew 
what  they  worked  for.  It  needed  Rankell,  in  this 
doubting  age,  to  gather  them  all  together  and 
express  them  in  the  best  truth  he  knew." 

So  thinking,  he  wished  of  course  to  see 
the  christening  of  the  church  ;  and  as  we 
slowly  walked  towards  the  structure,  he  fell 
to  criticising. 

"It  is  far  better,"  he  said,  "than  we  had 
any  reason  to  hope.  There  is  feeling  in  every 
line.  But  to  me  the  most  meaning  fact  of  all  is 
that  they  have  used  the  round  arch  throughout. 
I  thought  they  were  wrong  at  first,  but  I  was 
wrong  myself.     Christianity  is  past  its  zenith. 


308  RankeWs  Remains. 

That  marvellous  soaring  Gothic  belongs  to  a 
time  when  men  feel  that  there  are  endless 
things  beyond  what  they  see.  All  that  is  past 
now.  Could  anything  better  express  what  re- 
ligion is  to-day,  than  those  massive  lines,  half 
sinking  under  the  weight  they  bear,  yet  bravely 
bearing  it  all  trie  same  ?  —  By  the  way,  it 's  a 
pity  they  have  had  to  put  a  wooden  roof  above 
the  stone  vaulting  ;  the  foundations,  as  I  was 
afraid,  were  too  weak  for  more  stone." 

A  little  later  we  spoke  of  Rankell,  wondering 
where  he  might  be  lying  instead  of  here  where 
his  tomb  stood  empty. 

"  It  is  horrible  to  think  of,"  said  Dudley  with 
a  shudder  ;  "  yet  after  all,  if  you  will  only  make 
yourself  feel  it,  the  lasting  part  of  him  is  here, 
and  always  will  be." 

A  little  afterwards  he  passed  on  to  the  seat 
where  his  ticket  took  him,  and  I  was  left  alone 
in  the  crowd,  not  far  from  the  empty  tomb. 
The  service  began.  It  was  very  beautiful,  and 
so  I  think  all  felt  who  were  come  to  hear  it ; 
for  they  knelt,  and  rose,  and  stood,  in  the  dim 


RankelVs  Remains.  309 

light  that  came  through  the  painted  windows, 
with  a  reverence  more  of  other  days  than  of 
ours.  By  and  by  a  white-haired  bishop  began 
reading  the  Gospel,  and  the  whole  company 
rose  to  hear  the  sacred  words. 

"  And  the  Jew's  Passover  was  at  hand," 
read  the  saintly  man,  whose  voice  trembled 
with  the  wear  of  eighty  holy  years,  "  and  Jesus 
went  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  found  in  the  tem- 
ple those  that  sold  oxen  and  sheep  and  doves, 
and  the  changers  of  money  sitting :  and  when 
he  had  made  a  scourge  of  small  cords,  he  drove 
them  all  out  of  the  temple,  and  the  sheep, 
and  the  oxen ;  and  poured  out  the  changers' 
money,  and  overthrew  the  tables ;  and  said 
unto  them  that  sold  doves,  Take  these  things 
hence  ;  make  not  my  Father's  house  an  house 
of  merchandise." 

Just  then  I  heard  behind  me  a  muttering 
as  if  some  one  were  speaking  to  himself ;  and 
turning  to  see  who  disturbed  the  quiet,  I  saw 
close  at  hand  the  rude  giant  of  a  fellow  whom 
I  had  recognized  for  Joe   Lottimer  when  they 


310  RankelVs  Remains. 

buried  Rankell  in  St.  Peter's  churchyard. 
He  was  pale  now,  and  thin.  His  cheek-bones 
stood  out  like  those  of  a  dead  man,  and  there 
were  dark  lines  beneath  the  pale  blue  eyes 
that  peered  into  vacanc}r  w7ith  a  stare  more 
terrified  than  before.  He  stood  feebly  rub- 
bing his  bald  brow  with  a  gnarled  hand  that 
seemed  all  bone ;  and  he  looked  toward  the 
sculptured  tomb,  muttering  words  that  as  I 
turned  I  could  understand. 

"  They  won't  have  to  cast  him  out,"  mum- 
bled his  thick  voice.  "  He  '11  never  be  there 
to  cast  out." 

I  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm.  Whatever 
his  wrongs,  he  must  be  silenced  now.  I  spoke 
his  name  in  a  whisper. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  roughly,  loud 
enough  to  disturb  the  people  about  us. 

I  whispered  that  I  was  a  friend  who  knew 
what  was  in  his  mind.  This  was  no  place 
for  us;  let  him  come  with  me.  And  I  gently 
took  him  by  the  arm. 

He  looked  at  me  doubtingly  ;  for  a  moment 


RankelVs  Remains.  311 

I  thought  he  would  oppose  me,  for  he  pulled 
his  arm  roughly  from  my  grasp  ;  but  it  was 
only  to  take  my  arm  instead,  with  a  grip 
from  which  I  felt  I  could  not  free  it. 

"Yes,"  he  whispered,  "it's  no  place  for  men 
like  you  and  me.  There 's  where  he  would 
have  been."  And  he  pointed,  with  the  hand 
that  held  his  woollen  cap,  to  the  empty  tomb. 

Together  we  made  our  way  through  the 
troubled  worshippers,  and  so  out  into  the  sun- 
shine, where  the  shadows  were  growing  long. 
And  when  we  stood  before  the  round  arches 
of  the  porch  that  bent  beneath  the  weight  of 
the  twin  towers,  he  looked  back,  with  a  nice 
full  of  hatred,  and  spoke  again. 

"  They  won't  have  to  cast  him  out.  He  '11 
never  be  there." 

"  Who  knows  ? "  I  said,  half  wishing  his 
words  were  true.     "  They  ma}r  find  him  yet." 

He  turned  his  dull  eyes  and  looked  straight 
at  mine. 

"  I  know,"  he  said.  "  Come  with  me  and 
I  '11  show  you   why."     And   his   grasp  on  my 


312  RankelVs  Remains. 

arm  tightened  until  I  thought  the  bone  would 
break. 

He  turned  back  once.  Through  the  open  doors 
of  the  church  we  could  see  the  sparkle  of  candles 
on  the  great  altar,  and  above  the  throng  of  peo- 
ple rose  the  dim  white  outline  of  the  marble  tomb 
that  was  made  for  Rankell ;  and  the  sound  of  the 
Hundredth  Psalm  came  pealing  from  the  choir. 

"  Look  there,"  he  said.  "  There  's  where  he 
would  have  been." 

With  that  he  led  me  away  through  the  decent 
streets  of  the  town  that  Rankell  built  where  the 
Wybornes'  gardens  used  to  grow  ;  and  I  had 
no  choice  but  to  go  with  him,  feeling  that, 
whatever  chanced,  I  had  saved  from  desecration 
the  solemn  service  we  left  behind. 

In  such  strange  company  I  made  my  way 
back  to  the  city,  wondering  whither  he  would 
lead  me,  and  so  beset  by  this  wonder  that  after 
a  while  I  would  not  have  left  him  if  I  could. 
And  he  kept  silent,  looking  nowhither,  but  with 
his  pale  face  and  hanging  jaw  seeming  rather 
like  a  dead  man  than  a  living, 


RankelVa  Remains.  313 

When  at  last  we  came  to  the  city,  he  led  me 
through  the  streets,  until  finally  we  stood  just 
without  the  paling  of  St.  Peter's  churchyard. 
It  was  evening  now,  and  the  moonlight  cast  the 
shadow  of  St.  Peter's  spire  among  the  graves, 
and  the  black  outline  of  the  cock  who  turned 
his  face  to  the  wind  on  the  topmost  point  lay 
just  across  the  tomb  where  Rankell  had  once 
rested. 

"  Look  there,"  said  Lottimer,  his  breath  heav- 
ing deep.  "There's  where  we  saw  him  put. 
Now  come  with  me." 

He  led  me  only  a  few  steps  farther,  and 
pointed  down. 

"  There  's  where  he  is,"  he  said  in  a  whisper 
that  sent  a  shiver  through  me.  The  grated 
sewer-mouth  grinned  at  our  feet,  and  the  gurgle 
of  the  foul  waters  within  laughed  in  our  ears. 

I  stood  sick  with  horror  as  I  felt  his  grasp 
loosen  from  my  arm. 

"  It  was  me  that  did  it,"  he  went  on,  speak- 
ing faster  than  I  had  thought  he  could,  —  "me 
all  alone.     I  was  strong  enough  then." 


314  RankelVs  Remains. 

And  then  he  grasped  my  arm  once  more,  and 
put  his  lips  close  to  my  ear  as  he  spoke  again. 

"There  is  a  Hell!"  he  said.  "I  know  it 
now.     I  in  going  there  —  to  hear  him  howl !  " 

With  that  he  let  my  arm  drop,  and  turning 
suddenly  fled  away  into  the  shadow  of  St. 
Peter's  Church  ;  and  though  I  called  out  aloud, 
hastening  after  him,  I  could  not  tell  whither  he 
went. 


CONCLUSION. 

QO  now  I  have  placed  side  by  side  the  frag- 
ments  that  tell  me  how  Rankell  lived,  and 
how  he  died,  and  what  he  left  behind,  and 
what  is  become  of  it.  Throughout  his  life  he 
worked  evil,  and  to  pay  for  that  he  lies  now 
where  no  human  hands  can  find  him. 

Yet  if  this  were  all,  I  for  one  would  not  have 
dragged  him  back  from  the  nameless  place 
where  his  sins  might  lie  forgotten.  There  is 
another  meaning  in  his  story,  and  a  deeper. 
Of  old,  I  used  to  think  only  how  his  merciless 
life  was  all  spent  in  clutching  what  came 
within  his  grasp,  —  how  with  his  last  act  he 
built  a  vast  monument  to  the  self  that  busied 
all  his  thoughts.  But  now  I  begin  to  see  that 
this  was  not  all.  I  begin  to  remember  how, 
years  ago,  he  wept  over  the  grave  where  they 
were  burying  the  dead  girl  he  never  knew.     I 


316  RankelVs  Remains. 

begin  to  remember  how  Dudley  found  him  with 
moist  eyes  listening  in  the  old  cathedral  to  sa- 
cred music.  Even  in  Rankell,  I  begin  to  see, 
the  better  nature,  choked  and  stifled  by  the 
world  in  which  he  struggled,  had  never  yielded 
up  the  ghost. 

With  his  last  act  he  built,  half  unawares,  a 
monument  that  will  tell  no  untruth  to  those 
who  kneel  and  give  thanks  in  the  church  he 
made  consecrate  to  Mary  the  Virgin.  The  twin 
towers  and  the  painted  glass  and  the  solemn 
service  will  speak  truth  of  him  through  the 
centuries,  telling  only  of  what  in  him  was  best. 
What  was  base  and  foul  is  gone  where  no 
human  eyes  can  see  it.  What  is  left  he  con- 
secrated with  his  last  act  to  the  name  of  one 
in  whose  presence  he  was  always  humble.  As 
from  corruption  spring  flowers,  there  has  sprung 
from  the  sordid  thing  we  knew  as  Rankell  a 
work  that,  so  long  as  even  memory  of  the 
Christian  faith  shall  last,  will  bear  to  men 
messages  of  pardon  and  of  peace. 


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